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‘Keep quiet and don’t struggle,” and slowly she edged 
the girl closer to her. 


PEGS 

FRESHMAN 


By 

CHRISTINA CATREVAS 

AUTHOR OP “THAT PRESHMAN" 

AMD 

JEAN WICK 


THE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY 
NEW YORK 1920 



Copyright, 1990, by 

THE JAMES A. McCANN COMPANY 


All Rights Reserved 




©CI.A601688 

4** '' * 

<* 4 

^‘01/ -S 1920 


PRINTED IN THE U. S. A 


/ 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Journey’s End i 

II. Getting Acclimated 15 

III. Freshman Affairs 27 

IV. Sophomore Alarums 38 

V. Just Events 49 

VI. The Ghost Walks ...... 62 

VII. Suspicions 72 

VIII. “Flu” Sprites and Others ... 79 

IX. Quarantined 92 

X. Lights and Shadows 102 

XI. The Disappearance no 

XII. Noel 119 

XIII. The Return 132 

XIV. Black and Midnight Deeds . . . 143 

XV. Wrecked 152 

XVI. The Hen Victorious 161 

XVII. The Wherefore of Journey’s End . 172 

XVIII. The White Horse, Maud . . . . 178 

XIX. The Rescue 190 

XX. Snowbound 203 

XXL The Snow Carnival 21 1 

XXH. “Buff” Is Persistent 223 

XXHI. The Magpie’s Nest 233 

XXIV. Restitution 240 

XXV. The Break in the Ice 251 

XXVI. “Hail Our Captain , Hail Ou^ 

• Team !” 262 

XXVII. The Victory 271 

Conclusion . . 281 



« 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Keep quiet and don’t struggle.” And slowly she 
edged the girl closer to her .... Frontispiece 


FACING PAGE 


They were ready to eat — ^they were ready for some- 
thing scandalously wild 146 

The Freshman team began to saunter toward the 
field, sticks on their shoulders, trying to put on 
a bold front 272 









PEGS FRESHMAN 


* 

CHAPTER I 
journey’s end 

"HAMP-den! Hantp-den ! Do not leave any articles 
in the car !” 

There was no need to call out the station. For fif- 
teen minutes previously throughout the length of the 
train there had begun a feverish, feminine flutter and 
fussing about baggage in the aisles, the shaking out of 
cinders nestling in the folds of otherwise immaculate 
frocks, the careful mopping of heated faces, here and 
there the surreptitious dab of a powder puff, and the 
pushing in of stray wisps of hair; while now and again 
there was an expectant look out of the car window, 
as the slow-moving, dusty B. & M. wound in and out, 
through meadows thick with belated goldenrod, over 
creeks, past fields stacked with corn-stalks, until the 
mountains of the Havelock range came in sight, with 
their masses of just-turning green. 

As the train came to a full stop girls pushed into 
the aisles, laden down with suitcases, handbags, 
rackets and golf clubs, and soon swarmed on to the 
station platform, now a kaleidoscopic mass of color 
and form. 

“Oh, Lou ! I am so glad to see you !’’ 

“Same here, Grace ! And to think we’re back — and 
without any conditions! Isn’t it great?’’ 

1 ...J 


2 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“And Sophomores !” 

And the girl addressed as “Lou” dropped her suit- 
case and threw herself into the arms of the hatless 
Grace who had come especially to meet her, 

“All Freshmen this way, please,” called a girl in 
fluffy pink. 

“Only Freshmen?” grinned Grace Gamby over her 
shoulder, attracted by the proceeding. 

"Only Freshmen, Miss Don’t-be-too-fresh ! This is 
not a Sophomore tea-party. All Freshmen and enter- 
ing Sophomores — anybody that hasn’t been here be- 
fore.” 

“But may I not be permitted to assist you, O most 
gracious one?” 

“You will assist me by de-sisting. No, truly, Ruth 
is here to help out. Do you suppose I want my lambs 
to scatter at the sight of a giddy Sophomore? Stand 
by. Freshmen, and I’ll read the list of those we were 
expected to meet on the 4.05.” 

“Elizabeth Fielding — here, I see. Now hand over 
your trunk checks and fifty cents for each to my assist- 
ant, Ruth Dicks. Mr. Noah Simpson will bring your 
trunks to the College later on. Keep your bags and 
your suitcases.” 

“Where was I? — Elizabeth Fielding — Oh, yes! 
Josephine Guilford — entering Sophomore — from 
Galesport, Maine ? I’m from Maine, too. My name is 
Abbie Foster.” 

“From Galesport?” queried the thin, spare Maine 
girl. 

“No, I come frojn Portland. So glad to meet you. 


JOURNEY’S END 


3 


I believe you are going to live off Campus, at Miss 
Cooke’s house. Lucky girl. She always has a fine 
crowd! Miss Mary Hubbard — Mary Hubbard?” 

“Where, oh, where is Mary Hubbard?” from the 
de trap Sophomore. “Maybe that’s your missing Miss 
Bo-Peep ambling midst yon goldenrod. Can it be? 
Oh, Ma-ry Hub-h^rd. Ma — ry Hub — bard!” 

“Here I am,” came a soft tremolo from the off- 
side, and, skipping in a manner not unlike that of a 
young calf, a rather loosely- jointed, loosely-dressed in- 
dividual, with arms filled with goldenrod, and stray 
wisps of hair straggling over her wistful brown eyes, 
joined the group. 

“Here you stay!” said the Junior, rather de- 
cidedly. 

“Would you say that is Bo-Peep, or one of the 
sheep?” whispered the facetious Sophomore. 

“Oh, come, come. Cut it out,” replied the girl with 
the notebook. “Next, Miss Margaret Louise Sutton 
Whiting, of New York ! — All of that?” (Sotto voce.) 

“Here, present,” came a faint reply from the farther 
end of the platform. 

“Did I hear rightly ? Miss Margaret Louise et cetera 
— Ruth, trace that faint cry.” 

“See that wig-wag, Ruth, at the other end,” said the 
Sophomore. “Maybe it’s all the owner could do to 
drag thus far so lengthy a name !” 

“Here I am,” and the center of interest moved, as 
from the midst of a mountain of baggage peeped a face 
with a frank, winning smile and a mass of curly yellow 
hair. 


4 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Is this all your baggage ?” 

“My aunt’s hat !’’ exclaimed the Sophomore who had 
trailed after. “Her baggage is as extensive as her 
name !’’ 

“Grace Gamby! Leave my lambs alone^ — and go 
home !” 

“But — but — ” laughed the irrepressible one, “I think 
your lamb is afraid to come out. Are you, by any 
chance — trapped, my dear ?” 

“Rather !’’ shot back the reply — “being in the midst 
of my traps !” 

“Oh, dear, dear. We’ve made a mistake. This is 
a case of mistaken identity. Perhaps you belong to 
the troupe of one-nighters who are to entertain in due 
course at the local opera house? The extent of your 
baggage, my dear. A certain ready wit. An air of 
opulence, so as to* speak. Your idea of humor, you 
know.” 

“G. G. !” cried the Junior, using the Sophomore’s pet 
designation. “Desist ! Stop it ! What will Miss 
Whiting think of us?” 

“But — is this really all your baggage ?” 

“Why, yes,” the face had now grown serious and 
just a shade defiant. “No lady could decently do with 
less !” 

“Oh-h!” 

The Junior cut in quickly to avoid open hostilities : 
“Miss Sutton — I mean. Miss Whiting — I’ll see that 
Mr. Simpson gets your baggage up later.” 

“He’ll have to make a solo trip,” from G. G. 

“Be sure you have all the checks.” 

And so down the list the Junior went, and in twenty 


JOURNEY’S END 


5 


minutes Abbie Foster had gathered a score or more of 
entering girls under her shepherding arms. 

“Oh, here comes the ‘Ark’ at last,” cried Ruth, as 
down the hill creaked and rattled an ancient bus-like 
conveyance. “And Ham driving ! I declare, that 
Ham boy is growing some^ — for Noah to let him have 
such a responsible job.” 

“Oh, are those their real names?” whispered Mary 
Hubbard. 

“Yes, the whole family runs to the Biblical. But 
the horses are more modern. They are Mutt and Jeff. 
And they are about as evenly matched. And the whole 
Ark contraption comes out only on very special oc- 
casions. You Freshmen are honored. The College 
sends this. The upper classmen have to use the 
trolley.” 

That wonderful ride — into an unexplored country 
where at the end of the road lay the goal of girlhood 
ambition! What matter that the wagon wobbled and 
lurched; that the horses panted and heaved; that the 
baggage took every available inch of space so that feet 
could not touch the floor and one clung now to the 
ceiling, now to the side, now to the girl in front, as 
each fresh rut shook everyone and everything like 
beans in a bag. 

For the ride was wonderful just the same. In and 
out with the turns of the r-oad, here great clay-pits 
where they made bricks, over there farms with their 
straggling weather-beaten rail fences enclosing crops 
of late corn and garden truck, and, all along between, 
meadows of green, spotted with goldenrod and wild 
purple autumn asters. And in the distance Mount 


6 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Havelock, towering over the lesser mountains, its peal ( 
bathed in the glow of afternoon sun, -its feet in glories 
of gold and green and purple. 

A soft breeze blew, and a fresh dampness came from 
the fields. A passing trolley clanged by, filled with 
upper classmen. They were singing, and their happy 
voices carried back to the Freshmen as they left them 
behind : 

“Hampden, Hampden, as of oldl 
Naught our love shall sever— 

Cherishing the Blue and Gold 
In our hearts forever 1” 

“Sing, girls, sing,” cried Abbie Foster. “Don’t 
some of you know that ?” 

“Why, yes, we’ve been studying the songs all 
summer.” 

“Well, then, lefs. For there’s the sash factory, and 
the College is behind that.” 

The strident noise of the buzz-saws from behind the 
gray stone walls, the creaking and paddling of the old 
mill-wheel as the foamy waters fell over the dam and 
turned it round and round in the mill-race, a wide ave- 
nue of great trees and the end of the open country. 
And then — 

“There it is ! The College ! Oh, can we say ‘Hip, 
hip’ ?” asked Miss Whiting, tingling with excitement. 

“And hurray, too, if you want to,” said the Juniors. 

“Gowan, and I’ll help you,” urged Ham. “It won’t 
scare the harses.” 

“Nothing ever startles Mutt and Jeff,” said Abbie. 

And as they creaked to a halt in front of the great 
stone gates before the Administration Building, it came 


JOURNEY’S END 


7 


with a vim — “Hip! Hip! Hurray!” three times. 

“Pretty good for Freshmen,” came from the trolley 
car which was fast unloading its burden of girls and 
suitcases. 

“Leave hope behind, all ye who enter here,” from a 
Sophomore of the G. G. type. 

“Don’t mind them,” said Abbie. “You are all go- 
ing into Founders’ Hall for an interview with the 
Registrar.” 

“It sounds like filing teeth,” said Mary Hubbard, 
shivering. 

“But it isn’t — it’s filing your names.” 

The ordeal was not quite so terrible as expected. 
There was not a Chamber of Horrors — the Registrar 
was no ogre. Tall, well-gowned, sleek and velvety- 
footed, Miss Lyons passed from Freshman to Fresh- 
man, who in awed silence awaited the official ceremony 
of becoming “one of them.” - Those months spent 
in preparations, those harrowing “exams” safely 
weathered and passed, were now bearing results^ — 
these girls were entering College — ^and this was the 
hour — the minute ! 

It was soon over. One at a time they registered 
their names, got their admission cards and recitation 
hours, and the houses they were to live in. And when 
this batch of girls was disposed of, there was an In- 
dian file of three, plus bag and baggage, following 
Abbie over the greensward toward the “back door” of 
the Campus. 

“That is Journey’s End, girls,” said Abbie, “and a 
lucky lot you are to get there. Have you all been 


8 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


properly introduced ? Let me see — this is Miss Mary 
Hubbard. And you are an entering Sophomore, Miss 
Josephine Guilford. And this is — er — Miss — Miss — 
Margaret — Louise Sutton — Whiting. At last it is 
out! My name is Abbie Foster, and I am a Junior. 
Yes, Miss Cooke is a dear, and the girls just love her. 
The meals — well, they’re just scrum! Chicken every 
Sunday and in between ! Yes, Miss Cooke raises prize 
poultry — chicken, chicken everywhere — and the non- 
prize ones are apt to be decapitated almost any time for 
fricassee. — There! Speak of angels!” 

For as they went through the opening in the fence 
that served as a gate, underneath the heavy boughs of 
an apple-tree, they were suddenly introduced to an 
intimate picture of the Miss Cooke herself, weather- 
browned, dressed in gray striped taffeta, wielding a 
little stick and chasing before her an erratic Buff 
Orpington hen that had escaped from the chicken 
yard. Before her? Well, not always — sometimes to 
the right or left, when the hen stefered off on a tangent, 
squawking and flapping her wings, refusing from pure 
perverseness to understand that she was to go back 
through a particular hole in the chicken wire she had 
come out of. So back and forth went the two over 
the uneven garden at the side of the big, many-gabled 
house, where the summer’s vegetables had been partly 
pulled out, leaving little mounds and holes tot serve as 
pitfalls for unwary feet. 

“Oh,” cried Miss Whiting, dropping a suitcase, 
“Fll help you shoo her ! I’ll get on this side and head 
her off.” 


JOURNEY’S END 


9 


“Well — well — ” said the suddenly embarrassed Miss 
Cooke. 

“And maybe if I get on this side — “ came the plain- 
tive voice of Mary Hubbard — and, as she stumbled in 
a hole, off went Biddy, squawking with fright, in an- 
other direction, much to the concern of Sir Buff 
Orpington Cock inside the chicken wire, who scolded 
and cried out and flapped his wings with indignation. 
But an astute movement on Miss Cooke’s part, and an 
extra impulse born of sheer fright, made Biddy lift 
herself on her pinions with super-hen effort, back over 
the chicken wire — and the whole world was at peace 
again. 

“You have your trouble. Miss Cooke,’’ said Abbie 
Foster. “And here I bring you some more of your 
household.’’ And she introduced her charges. 

“Well — well — ” said Miss Cooke, shifting her spec- 
tacles on her Roman nose, “I am so glad to see you, 
girls. Come right in and we’ll introduce you to your 
roommates. — Oh, and this is Josephine Guilford from 
my old home town. So glad to know you, dear; 
we’ll have to ‘reminisce’ by and by. Welcome to 
Journey’s End, girls.” And, as they trooped up the 
white steps of the porch, she picked up a big yellow 
Angora cat that had been watching the proceedings. 
“This is our Buff,” she said, “and he’s a good cat.” 
Then, Buff having been admired — “Girls, I hope you’ll 
be very happy here. — Right up to the second floor. 
And after you’ve all made one another’s acquaintance, 
there’ll be just about time to wash and brush off and 
take a breath before dinner-time.” 


10 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


It did not take long to make the newcomers at home. 
Those first chilly ceremonies were soon over. In a 
big comer front room, cool and bare-looking as rooms 
always are when they have not yet received the per- 
sonal touch nor been filled with those little personal 
belongings that both show and make for character, sat 
two girls on the edge of their white-covered couches. 

“You — ^you are Miss Margaret — ” the slender dark- 
haired girl broke off, referring to a card tag on a 
suitcase. 

The girl with the shock of yellow curls laughed. 

“You may well study my card,” she said. “Mar- 
garet — Louise — Sutton — Whiting, all of that. Are 
you not overwhelmed?” 

Two deep brown rather serious eyes were lifted to 
her blue ones, not knowing whether or not to smile. 

“It is rather a long name. Miss Whiting,” com- 
mented the Freshman, a smile finally dawning. 

“Some people get more than their share. My 
greedy parentsLare now properly sorry. My name im- 
presses nobody. Dad calls me Peggy. The boys and 
girls cut that shorter yet. I’m known as ‘Pegs.’ ” 

A whimsical smile flitted over the frank face. 

“It’s short as bobbed hair,” laughed the other. 
“Mine is simply Sarah Thayer, Miss Whiting.” 

“Now,” protested Pegs Whiting, “you and I are 
here together, as far as I can see, for a sort of bet- 
ter or worse arrangement for the next momentous 
months. Let’s start right. We’ll cut out the ‘Miss’ 
from now on and forever more, Thara Thayer! — My, 
but you do have to twist your tongue to thay your 
thimple name, Thara Thara !” 


JOURNEY’S END 


11 


The laugh was interrupted by a diffident knock on 
the door. The head’ of Mary Hubbard timidly 
entered, in response to the cordial “Come in!” 

“Oh, come all in,” cried Pegs, “and be introduced to 
my roommate. Thara Thara, this is Mary Hubbard.” 

“This is my roommate,” said Mary, as she opened 
the door a little wider to let herself in and wider yet 
for her roommate. For the girl that followed her 
was large and neither diffident nor abashed. 

“Mary, you don’t do your duty properly. — My name 
is Cicely Becker.” 

“Oh, I forgot,” apologized Mary. 

“How very pretty,” said Pegs. “I always call that 
Sise-ly. It sounds spicier.” 

“It’s bad enough either way, but I’ve heard yours 
and you ought to be the last one to make remarks,” 
laughed the owner. “I wonder how long it will be 
before the dinner bell rings. I’m starved.” And 
she plumped herself in the midst of Pegs’ white couch. 

“That reminds me,” exclaimed Pegs. “You two 
girls look so spick and span. Sit down and entertain 
each other while Mary and I wash and get the remains 
of New England landscape off our costumes. I’m as 
dusty and dirty as a chimney sweep. So are you, 
Mary. I suppose we might as well start right and 
change.” And the next moment Pegs disappeared 
and could be heard splashing around in the bathroom 
down the hall. 

That terrible, wonderful feeling of being alone: the 
sweetness of independence dashed with a bitterness of 
loneliness! That was the feeling of the girls as they 


12 


PEGS— FRESHIVIAN 


gathered about the dinner table that night and Miss 
Cooke said grace. 

“I am sure it is good to have you all here with me,” 
she said. “You have met each other in the parlors. 
Now you are breaking bread together. I hope that 
it will mean many close friendships that will last 
through life, and a deep unswerving loyalty to each 
other and to your College. You are indeed very wel- 
come to Journey’s End. Too, I hope you all will be 
happy. It won’t be hard. I have one prescription 
which I always recommend to my girls — Be good !” 

The girls laughed. 

“Freshmen aren’t always good,” commented the girl 
opposite Miss Cooke, across the width of the table. 

“Louise, you ought to know,” said Miss Cooke. 
And, turning to the others, “You see. Miss Gaylord is 
a Senior.” 

“Are you really a Senior, Miss Gaylord?” asked 
Mary Hubbard, mouth agape in awe. “How wonder- 
ful!” 

A laugh broke out the length of the dining room. 

“Miss Gaylord, expect flowers from Mary to- 
morrow,” said her roommate. Cicely Becker. “But, 
Miss Cooke, why is this called ‘Journey’s End’?” 

“Louise can tell you better than I can,” replied Miss 
Cooke. 

“Why, it was this way — ” began Louise. “But no, 
I think I won’t tell just now.” 

“Oh, do!”— “Oh, do!” 

“Miss Cooke, hadn’t we better let the girls wait a 
while?” 

Miss Cooke laughed. “Maybe. Perhaps they will 


JOURNEY’S END 


13 


appreciate it better later,” said she, “when they, too, 
have had experience.” 

Little by little, the ice among all these newcomers 
was broken. Diffident, shy looks gave way to open 
smiles, they began to call each other by their first 
names, and, surest sign of all, began to make bright 
and even “fresh” remarks — while the salad disap- 
peared and second portions of ice cream and cake 
filled up the last lingering trace of emptiness. 

But out on the piazza, in the soft, clear light of a 
still sunset, with the shadows of night just creeping on, 
that feeling of loneliness came back. They squatted 
intimately enough on step or rail, with arms about one 
another, those girls who had never seen one another be- 
fore. But as they watched the sun slowly sinking in 
the west behind banks of fleecy clouds that crowned 
the high hills, there were pictures conjured in those 
clouds, twenty different pictures of twenty different 
homes. 

“Oh, well, we’re here because we’re here, you know. 
So we might as well be cheerful,” spoke up the girl 
with the long name and the shock of fluffy golden hair. 
“From here on the word ‘homesick’ is taboo in this 
house. What do you say?” 

“Yes, yes, indeed !” came from all around. “I sup- 
pose mother is knitting on her sweater now.” — “And 
Fanny is doing her Latin at home all alone.” — “Dick 
is getting ready for Bowdoin ; my, but he has to work 
hard nights !” 

The thing not to be named was still in the blood 
of all of them. 

And there they sat till the last purple glow of sun- 


14 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


set. They watched the skies become duller and duller, 
and the mountains grow dimmer and dimmer, until 
sky and mountain were blended into one. The lights 
on the trolleys became visible and brighter, moving 
along the foothills like fiery caterpillars that crawled 
toward one another, met, and crawled away again. 
Then only the night breeze, that wafted across the still- 
ness of fields and brought with it the smell of orchards 
heavy with apples. 


CHAPTER II 


GETTING ACCLIMATED 

Pegs Whiting awoke with a start and stared 
around her, trying to recollect where she was. The 
room was bright with daylight and the keen fresh 
coolness of early morning penetrated through the wide 
open window. The persistent “cheer-re-ree” of rob- 
ins came from the tops of nearby trees. 

And then the ringing of a ponderous bell telling 
the hour. It was six o’clock. Pegs, thoroughly 
awake, went over the happenings of the preceding 
twenty-four hours. She was away from home, at 
College — at College! That must have been the clock 
on Founder’s Hall striking. 

This was to be the Freshmen’s first day at College. 
Pegs was eager to get up and wondered when the 
rising bell would ring. Across on the other couch a 
girl with soft black hair was still sleeping. A deep- 
voiced rooster crowed lustily in the back yard, and a 
pert squeaky young thing replied a little further away. 
A wagon creaked by in the road, the driver holding 
conversation with a passer-by. 

But that comfortable feeling of lying there awake 
without having to get up was not to last long, and 
the ringing of the rising bell half an hour later brought 
Pegs to her feet. 

“What is it ?” asked Thara, sitting up suddenly and 
rubbing her eyes still heavy with sleep. 

15 


16 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


"Time to get up,” called Pegs as she disappeared 
in her kimono, bath-towel and sponge in hand, through 
the door of their room. 

Miss Cooke did not let her girls start off hungry 
that morning. A wonderful breakfast was theirs — a 
breakfast of delicious fish-cakes and biscuits and fresh, 
crisp doughnuts and hot coffee. Effie in the kitchen 
had done her best, assisted not a little by Josephine 
Guilford, who had come to help in Miss Cooke’s house- 
hold and thus pay her way through her Sophomore 
year of College. 

What a sense of well-being comes with a good 
breakfast! But there was not much loitering after- 
wards, for beds had to be made, rooms straightened 
out, and a load of trunks that had arrived and were 
clustered in a corner of the yard had to be claimed 
and disposed of. 

Clang, clang! Clang, clang! 

That was the Chapel bell, which sent the Freshmen 
scurrying to find their recitation cards, pencils and 
notebooks. And in a few minutes, along the white 
gravel path that led from the apple-tree gate, went gay, 
laughing groups of girls in fours and fives, arm in 
arm, to answer the summons. 

At the Chapel door they were met by upper class- 
men who assigned them to seats as they came. Within 
all was silence, with an air of serenity and beauty that 
seemed to envelop all. The Freshmen were awed and 
silent, casting only an occasional glance about them. 
Timid, confident, “fresh,” and homesick Freshmen 


GETTING ACCLIMATED 


17 


were there, Freshmen of all kinds, assembled together 
for the first time in a class of two hundred and fifty. 

The Sophomores and Juniors were filling the seats in 
front of them, grouped in the order of their year, and, 
at the very front, the Seniors. At the right of the 
platform, facing the center, was the Choir, and on the 
left side the Faculty, who were coming in one by one 
from a door in the rear of the Chapel. The Fresh- 
men regarded this august body of women (and two or 
three men) with not a little awe, for they still recalled 
vividly the examinations they had taken from them the 
preceding June. Here and there one was picked out 
and recognized — with varied feelings. 

Up in the gallery, fond relatives who had brought 
their girls to College, were fanning themselves and 
whispering — mothers, and here and there a father, or 
a doting aunt. They smiled proudly upon the groups 
of eager Freshmen below them, and picked out their 
own with great satisfaction as the girls arrived and 
took their seats in the body of the Chapel. 

At the organ sat Professor Howard in his volumi- 
nous gown, looking on all this, smiling and nodding 
and smiling again as he recognized each comer, till the 
smile became continuous and permanent. 

As the Chapel bell died down to a toll, he ran his 
fingers over the keys and the music of the soft, beauti- 
ful “Andantino” arose, searching the roof and sing- 
ing among the rafters and then dying out gently again 
with a clutch at the heart strings. 

As the organ began the President of the College 
mounted the platform, from one of the little do'ors 
in the rear. She came quietly, softly, her long 


18 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


black doctor’s gown falling in graceful folds from 
her shoulders and adding to her dignity and poise. A 
smile lighted her eyes, a smile of proud appropriation 
over those splendid girls in the assembly. And every 
Freshman felt that Miss Hartley meant a special 
message of encouragement and inspiration to her for 
her College career. For the president was of that 
rare type that can by mere strength and sweetness of 
personality encourage others to strive and to do. 

As the organ chords died down altogether, Miss 
Hartley arose for the invocation, and the prayer that 
followed had to do with the welfare of the students, 
both old and new. Her allusions to home and friends 
awoke again that tormenting feeling and brought a 
choky sensation to the throat and tears to the eyes. 

But it did not last long, for when the prayer was 
over and the organ pealed forth the bars of that fine 
inspirational hymn, there came confidence with every 
note, assurance with every word. 

“In the Cross of Christ' I glory, 

Towering o’er the wrecks of timel 
All the light of sacred story 
Gathers round its head sublime! 

“When the woes of life o’ertake me, 

Hopes deceive and fears annoy. 

Never shall the Cross forsake me— 

Lo! It glows with peace and joy. 

“When the sun of bliss is beaming 
Light and love upon our way. 

From the Cross the radiance streaming 
Adds new luster to the day.” 

Every feeling of homesickness was wiped away, and 
assurance and confidence came stronger with the reiter- 


GETTING ACCLIMATED 


19 


ated response and their expression of Faith in the One 
who would be their guide all through their College 
career and through life: 

“In the Cross of Christ I glory, 

Towering o’er the wrecks of time! 

All the light of sacred story 
Gathers round its head sublime 1” 

The words of welcome which followed brought 
them back to the strange reality of things — things they 
had always longed for but had hardly dared hope to 
experience, the things that even now were hardly 
recognizable as the substance of their dreams. 

The students left the Chapel in order of their sen- 
iority while Professor Howard wrung from the organ 
that rousing “March Heroique” of Dubois, until every 
beam and comer reverberated with sound. As the 
Freshmen left he roguishly interpolated Mendelssohn’s 
“Wedding March” into the recessional, which brought 
genuine grins of appreciation, although the feeling of 
solemnity was not to be shaken off. The upper class- 
men to whom the scene and the associations were not 
so new, laughed and greeted one another joyously on 
the paths outside and across the green lawns, but the 
Freshmen went on their way, serious and grave, to 
their recitation halls. 

They were of real beauty, those great stone halls 
into whose Oxfordesque precincts they were ushered. 
The ponderous iron-bound doors closed upon the fresh, 
green, free world of the Campus and opened upon the 
severe, restricting world of classroom. Staid profes- 
sors went over the preliminaries of admittance in very 
businesslike manner, while the Freshmen gazed about 


20 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


with interest at the photographs of Roman and Greek 
ruins hung on the walls and the busts of the Great 
Dead that stood in corners and ornamented closets and 
bookcases. The big wooden pyramids and cones in 
the Mathematics room made them tremble for the 
future. Only the English room with its smiling young 
assistant professor and its pictures of Shakespeare’s 
house, the Stone Henge, and the portrait of Robert 
Louis Stevenson made them feel at home. This was 
College and thus passed the first morning. 

Then back to Miss Cooke’s for luncheon, and more 
visiting of classes in the afternoon, a trip to the Gym- 
nasium, where little was done but much talked of, 
and the day was over. 

That night after dinner they gathered in Peg Whit- 
ing’s room — distrait Mary Hubbard, Cicely Becker, 
Julia Talbot and Fanny Kincaid from upstairs, and 
two or three others. Pegs had just descended from 
the step-ladder with the aid of which she was hanging 
pictures. All around, on the floor, the chairs, the 
couches, were scattered trunk trays, clothes, pictures, 
tennis rackets, shoes, hockey and golf sticks, and in- 
numerable odds and ends. 

“Oh, don’t mind the things. Just shove ’em on the 
floor and sit down anywhere,” she exclaimed hos- 
pitably, as numerous knocks came on the door. 
“Thara Thara thought she was going to- study Latin, 
but who can study the first day. I say the present, 
claims us with all this mess of things to be put away ; 
we are glad you came.” 

That “we” expressed the relationship of the two 
girls throughout the entire ensuing four years of Col- 


GETTING ACCLIMATED 


21 


lege life, and, if the truth be told, for many moons 
thereafter. Pegs decided for Thara, spoke for her, 
and snatched her book to make it impossible for her 
to work, while Thara smiled at her more impetuous 
roommate. Yet it is, too, significant of their life to- 
gether that Thara managed to “do” Latin for an hour 
that night, and even had Pegs studying for a while. 

“What do you think of College?” asked Julia Tal- 
bot, drawing herself comfortably on a couch, with 
some objets d’art on one side, and furs and framed 
pictures on the other. 

“It’s great !” voted Pegs decidedly. 

“All I expected it to be,” said Thara. “But let me 
tell you they’ll make us work.” 

“It’s awfully different from what I had expected,” 
ventured Mary Hubbard in a plaintive voice. 

“Different?” echoed her roommate. “Didn’t you 
take exams here last June?” 

“No, I took them in my home town. I didn’t come 
here. And this College is so much — bigger — and 
more wonderful. It’s so — so solid!” 

“Of course it’s solid,” snapped Cicely Becker. 
“Stone and brick are rather apt to be.” 

“But I used to dream of such a different place — low- 
roofed and vaulted, and dim and mysterious.” 

“Dreams, my dear, dreams. Did you by any chance 
imagine yourself as the favored ghost ? Wake up and 
come to. Even now you look as if you were dream- 
ing.” 

“Don’t, Cicely Becker!” defended Pegs Whiting. 
“Let the child dream if she wants to. It’s worth while 
sometimes,” 


22 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“I like that,” retorted Cicely, seemingly taking of- 
fense. “Can’t I do what I want to with my own 
roommate ?” 

“No! ‘Not in the presence of Mrs. Boffin!’” she 
said, stirring up memories of “Our Mutual Friend.” 
“Now I have it! You call it ‘Sicily’ Becker and I 
called it ‘Sise-ly’ Becker; but now I’m going to give 
you a nice little pet name — ‘Spice’ Becker.” 

Fanny Kincaid haw-hawed and went over back- 
wards into the clothes basket on the edge of which 
she had been sitting. The rest all laughed apprecia- 
tively and voted that the name fitted. In spite of the 
fact that Miss Becker was slightly ruffied, she accepted 
the dictum with the best grace she could muster. 

“Go ahead and call me ‘Spice’ if you like. Don’t 
blame me though if I try to live up to it!” 

“But don’t let that be your main ambition in life,” 
said Julia. “What are you going in for, really? 
I’m going to try athletics for all it’s worth. I want 
to make the hockey team.” 

“So do I,” seconded Pegs. “I used to play on our 
prep school team and we had some great games ! The 
most exciting of all was . . .” 

“But,” said Julia, when the game had been fully 
described and commented upon, “wee’ll have to get a 
team together right away, if we want to stand a ghost 
of a chance against the other classes. They hold the 
games in November here.” 

“That’s just it !” said Pegs. “And I don’t think it’s 
fair to the Freshmen. It’s just making us the goat.” 

“Make them change the date and put the game off 
until Spring,” suggested Thara mildly. 


GETTING ACCLIMATED 


23 


“Make them!” said Pegs. “It won’t be easy; we’ll 
have to fight for it, if we want it. We’re going to 
have a class meeting in a few days and organize. 
We’ll bring it up just as soon as we can. Meanwhile, 
let’s all get to work and arouse the enthusiasm of the 
others. I hope the class will be enthusiastic.” 

“I think it will,” said little Ida Bradley who had been 
sitting quietly gazing out of the window. “After 
Chapel this morning I heard that tall good-looking 
girl with the red hair in our Math Class telling the 
other girls how she hoped there’d be a lot of 
hockey.” 

“That was Jennie Crowell — she’s fine,” said Fanny 
Kincaid. “But there’s a lot to be done first — elect a 
Chairman, etc. But she’s only temporary. By and by 
we’ll elect our permanent officers.” 

“Some time after Christmas,” interposed “Spice” 
Becker. “But we choose motto and cheer and colors 
first — ” 

“Not colors,” interrupted Pegs. “We inherit those 
from the out-going Senior class. Our color is going 
to be navy blue.” 

“Well, I like that,” said Spice. “Everything is cut 
and dried and settled for us Freshmen.” 

“What if it is?” said Pegs. “The class of 1919 
carried that color to glory, and I guess the class of 
1923 isn’t going to fuss at it! They were the 
champion hockey players for four years — •” 

“And basket ball champions, too,” drawled Mary, 
rousing suddenly. “I do like basket ball. But 1923 
doesn’t sound lucky to me.” 

“Lucky!” exclaimed Pegs. “It’s mighty lucky for 


24 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


us to belong to the Class of 1923! Tm proud of it! 
Three cheers for the Class of ’23! Hip! Hip! — ’’ 

‘'Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!” joined in the 
others in all sorts of keys. 

“What’s the matter? What’s up?” cried other 
Freshmen, flocking from all over the house and crowd- 
ing in at the door. 

“We’re just celebrating and cheering for the class. 
Let’s sing ‘Three cheers for ’23!’ — ^What was that, 
Thara, you had last night? Here, who can play the 
ukulele? There, that’s right. Ida, you take the uke, 
Thara, you lead us. Thara’s going in for the Glee 
Club,” added Pegs to the other girls. 

“Oh, Pegs, don’t!” protested Thara. 

“She’s bashful. But she can sing anyway.” 

“But,” suggested Thara, “it’s ‘quiet hour’ and we 
shouldn’t make a noise.” 

“It struck nine five minutes ago and we can do any- 
thing we want for the next hour,” said Martha 
Wheeler, one of the girls who* had just joined the 
group. 

“All right, these are the words,” and Thara sang 
softly : 

‘Three cheers for *23 1 
The class of the brave and the free I 
With her banner of blue before her, 

Three cheers for *23 V* 

“Now everybody!” said Pegs. “And louder!” 
And with a vim they repeated: 

“Three cheers for *23! 

The class of the brave and the free ! 

With her banner of blue before her, 

Three cheers for ’23!” 


GETTING ACCLIMATED 


25 


Outside the window came a shout that startled 
them : 

'Tretty good for Freshmen!’^ 

Heads went out of the window. 

‘Who are you?'’ they called back. “Freshmen?" 

‘‘Rah! Rah! Rah! 

Rah! Rah! Rah! 

Rah! Rah! Rah! 

22! ^22! ’22 r 

“Why, they are Sophomores! Millions of them!" 

They could now discern a sea of faces in spite of the 
dark, and individuals moving about restlessly. 

“What do they want?" whispered the Freshmen to 
one another. 

“Freshman came to Hampden fair, 

Green she was as grass is; 

In pig-tails she wore her hair, 

For the rules she did not care, 

Stupid in her classes ! 

Freshman, Freshman, Freshman, O ! — • 

Freshman at fair Hampden!” 

The Sophomores were out serenading the Freshmen 
and they gave them many tunes, expressly for their 
benefit. The Freshmen listened gleefully, but kept to 
the upper windows for safety’s sake. 

“You never can tell what Sophs will do,” whispered 
Spice Becker, who had great regard for her personal 
well-being. 

But when finally the crowd of Sophomores moved 
away, to visit other houses, our Freshmen ventured 
down to the piazza and called in deep measured tones : 
“Thanks — Sophomores !” 


26 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


And then, brave again : 

“Three cheers for ’23, 

The class of the brave and the free! 
With her banner so blue before her, 
Three cheers for ’23.” 


CHAPTER III 


FRESHMAN AFFAIRS 

Those panoramic days ran one into another almost 
imperceptibly. New books, new studies, new scenes. 
The writing of diary-like letters home, and the haunt- 
ing of the post office by the homesick ones. Rooms to 
put in order and to decorate. Frequent visits to the 
village store and the five and ten cent stores in the 
City. It seemed as if they were setting up for 
light housekeeping! And many and new were the 
problems with which they were confronted! 

Indeed, the first mid-week recreation day, Wednes- 
day of the following week, found all the Freshmen of 
Journey’s End in the cellar, clamoring for the wash- 
boiler or for a chance at the tubs. For these 
daughters of more or less well-to-do households had 
decided that thrift was an end as well as a means, and 
that it would be much better to use the money of their 
allowance intended for laundry charges for more im- 
portant things. 

"Of course I’m going to do my washing,” said Pegs 
Whiting. “Seventy-five cents is seventy-five cents!” 
And she gave her night-gown another rub on the wash- 
board, unmindful of the fact that the skin of her 
hands was getting redder and redder while the gown 
remained about as it had been ! 

27 


28 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Jo Guilford, the Sophomore of the house, was pass- 
ing through on an errand for Miss Cooke. 

“My, but you are all busy,” said she, stopping to 
watch Pegs. 

“I’m putting elbow grease into this as well as soap,” 
remarked Pegs proudly, giving her gown another 
scrub. “But — it — simply — ^won’t — come off.” ^ She 
stopped, out of breath. 

“But you don’t do it right, my dear,” said Jo. “Do 
it like this.” And she dipped her hands into the suds. 

“Oh, I’ve been rubbing — oh, look at my hands !” 

Pegs’ hands were now both blistered and raw from 
the washing. 

“Ah, there’s the rub!” remarked Jo with a laugh. 
“Scrub the clothes — not the skin off your hands.” 

“I guess I rubbed off more than seventy-five cents’ 
worth of my beauty,” said Pegs ruefully, “especially 
if beauty’s only skin deep! But if Spice’d ever get 
through with that boiler then I wouldn’t need to rub 
so much. — Oh, Spice, aren’t you through yet ?” 

“In a minute,” from Spice. 

“Making your clothes hard-boiled ?” 

They were indeed economizing. The items that 
went into Pegs’ account book that week were : 
Clothes pins, lo cents (permanent asset) ; laundry 
soap, 12 cents; blueing, 3 cents (expenses pooled); 
ice cream sodas, 68 cents; chocolates, $1.20; picture 
wire, 10 cents; butter thins, 17 cents; fig newtons, 18 
cents; chocolate, 35 cents; milk and sugar, on credit 
from Effie. 

These girls believed in economy, but also in pre- 


FRESHMAN AFFAIRS 


29 


paredness. One would have discounted the three 
square meals a day they received, had one watched 
closely. 

Luncheon hour found them tired and aching; the 
clothes that flapped in the wind in the back yard told 
the story — and more, too. The sight drew a smile 
from the usually serious Effie as she viewed them from 
a kitchen window. 

“Those girls have been working hard this morning,” 
she said to Ham, who had come in for a drink of 
water after chopping about a cord of wood. 

“Ye-es,” drawled Ham. “There’s nothing like a 
good wash — to bring the dirt to the surface.” 

“You’re very cynical in your remarks,” laughed Jo 
Guilford. “That shows that you are hungry. I’m 
going to ring the first bell for luncheon. Be sure 
you feed him well, Effie.” 

There was great excitement at that luncheon table — 
not over the washing. No, little things like that are 
but incidents, the seconds that are ticked off by the 
clock and are never noticed. It was an event of the 
hour that was to occur that afternoon that keyed them 
all to top notch. 

“Who do you think will be elected chairman ?” asked 
Martha Wheeler, who sat opposite Pegs Whiting. 

“I haven’t the least idea,” replied Pegs. “But I 
think we’ll have to get a rather active person. We’ll 
need some one with plenty of ‘pep’ to defend our 
interests.” 

“Indeed we do,” put in Ida Bradley on her left. 


30 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“The Freshmen aren’t getting a ghost of a show any- 
where. We’re just bound down by tradition.’’ 

“And then those Sophomores — ’’ began Spice 
Becker, in a loud voice. But she stopped short. Jo 
Guilford was bringing in another platter of cold roast 
beef. 

“Don’t let me interfere,” said Jo, setting down the 
platter in front of Miss Cooke. “You don’t have to 
mind me one bit.” 

But they did not go on and Pegs steered the con- 
versation back again to the Freshman elections. 

“I think Ruth Hammond will just about do for 
Chairman. She’s great, and at present the best 
known. The office is only temporary anyhow. After 
Christmas we choose the regular officers.” 

“Ruth Hammond is awfully pretty,” remarked 
Thara Thara. “She’s in my Latin class and I love 
to sit and watch her — ^pink and white with lovely soft 
light hair. All she needs is a Dutch costume and 
wooden shoes, and a lovely old wind-mill in the back- 
ground. She’d be perfect.” 

“Gracious ! ‘Perfect,’ maybe ! But it sounds rather 
stupid to me,” remarked Spice. 

“Thara has the artistic temperament,” said the 
Senior, Lou Gaylord. “It’s just the picture she con- 
jured up in her mind’s eye. As a matter of fact. Miss 
Hammond has been well spoken of by the upper class- 
men.” 

“Upper classmen again!” sighed Spice. “Well, I 
won’t vote for her, just — ” 

“Don’t talk nonsense,” said Pegs. “You ought to 
see her play tennis! Like a bird. And she’s in my 


FRESHMAN AFFAIRS 


31 


Math division. There’s no telling what’s behind that 
forehead until you’ve heard her recite. She conies 
from Alabama.” 

“I think I’ll vote for Pegs Whiting.” was Mary 
Hubbard who drawled out that remark. 

“Another county heard from,” burst out Spice 
Becker, looking down at her roommate. 

“So shall I,” voted Thara Thara. 

“Now, please, please,” cried the nominee, “let’s con- 
centrate on somebody worth while. Now Ruth Ham- 
mond is a wonderful girl. She’s just what she looks 
like. She’s quiet, but effective.” 

“She has a wonderful profile,” again remarked 
Thara. 

“You little hero worshipper!” said the Senior-op- 
posite. 

The class meeting was called for four o’clock, and 
by quarter of four the Freshmen commenced to ar- 
rive in groups that almost filled the big Assembly 
Hall at the top of Founder’s Building. In the front 
seats sat two or three Juniors, one of them their old 
friend Abbie Foster, who was Junior Class President. 
When the room was almost full and the Freshmen 
seemed all to have come, she rose and took her place 
at the speaker’s stand on the little platform. 

She made a speech to the Freshmen, a little talk 
about Class ideals and College spirit, always being 
careful to stress the thought of the College good rather 
than the Class supremacy. But, too, she went on to 
remind them never to overlook the fact that they were 
of the famous odd-year classes, and that the Navy 


32 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Blue and White had been carried on to glory in almost 
every instance by the famous departed Seniors of 
1919. Now, they, the Juniors, were doing what they 
could. Soon it would be up to the Freshmen to show 
their mettle. 

Briefly she outlined the custom of Freshmen elec- 
tions, appointed a temporary secretary and tellers, and 
asked for nominations for Chairman. 

Julia Talbot was on her feet in a moment. 

“I nominate Miss P-P — Margaret Whiting.” 

Pegs claimed the floor. 

*T’m sorry. Madam Chairman,” she said, coloring, 
“but I must decline the nomination.” 

“But, why?” asked the astonished Junior President. 

“Why — because I’ve decided whom I’m going to 
vote for, and it’s not myself,” she said dryly. 

There was a laugh all around, and many protested. 
But Pegs carried her point and nominated Ruth Ham- 
mond, to the obvious satisfaction of the general group. 
Pegs’ discussion of candidates being so entirely naive 
and out of place disarranged the order of procedure 
so that the nominations were immediately closed and 
Ruth Hammond unanimously elected. 

The handsome doll-like girl from Alabama was the 
blushing recipient of a volley of vociferous “Rahs” 
led by Pegs Whiting, and then she was formally pre- 
sented with a beautiful bunch of white roses, tied with 
wide navy blue streamers, from the Junior Class. The 
Freshmen were all surprised and thrilled, the bouquet 
having been kept hidden in a little anteroom until now. 

Florence Sherwood was elected temporary Secre- 
tary, and Pegs Whiting (who did not demur this time) 


FRESHMAN AFFAIRS 


33 


to' the chairmanship of the Executive Committee. 
Acting with her were Helen Betts, a popular and 
energetic girl from the dormitories, Marie Billington 
who represented the group at Anderson house and 
Olga Ritter, a western girl. 

These girls were to carry on the business of the 
Class until the permanent elections after Christmas. 

Ruth Hammond took the chair at once and was 
most satisfactory. She went efficiently through the 
memorandum sheet handed her by the Junior Presi- 
dent, and Constitution Committee, Motto Committee, 
Cheer Committee, and what not, were soon appointed. 
Lastly she read a little note from the Seniors invit- 
ing them as a class to attend the Senior-Freshman 
reception to take place in Student-Alumnae Hall on 
Tuesday evening, two weeks from the preceding day. 
The Freshmen accepted delightedly as a class and as 
individuals fell to thinking about their evening dresses. 

“Is there any further business to come before the 
meeting?” asked the new Chairman, who was cer- 
tainly good to look at, standing there in her crisp 
white dress, her clear blue eyes solemnly surveying the 
girls assembled before her. 

“Madam Chairman,” again it was Pegs Whiting 
who claimed the floor, “I move that we fittingly cele- 
brate our organization by a Freshman party to-night.” 

The motion was at once seconded by a Freshman in 
a far corner of the room, and was carried with a buzz 
of delight. 

“What’ll we do? What are we going to do?” was 
queried. 

“We don’t know yet,” answered Pegs, who seemed 


34 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


to have the “party” she had mothered on her hands 
as her responsibility. “But we’ll do something. 
Everybody meet in back of Founder’s Hall at 7.30 
to-night.” 

It was mail time when the Freshmen streamed down 
from Assembly Hall, into the post office. There were 
already crowds of girls there, but it seemed odd that 
the Sophomores should be so especially prevalent. 
Broad mysterious grins met them on every side. 
What was it ? And what were the Sophomores doing 
around there in bulk, so to speak. They had had no 
class meeting. It was the generally unobservant Mary 
Hubbard who pulled Pegs aside to a corner. 

“Isn’t that Grace Gamby talking to Jo Guilford over 
there by the book-shop door ?” she whispered. 

“It surely is,” said Pegs Whiting, stopping in the 
act of opening a letter from home. “She’s the girl 
who tried to faze us at the railroad station last week 
when we arrived.” 

“Say, Pegs,” it was Spice Becker with Julia Talbot 
who approached, “what does Jo Guilford want to be 
talking with those Sophomores for ?” 

“Well, she’s a Sophomore, too,” was the quick rqdy. 
“Can’t she talk to her own class ?” 

They didn’t like it, however, and when finally Jo 
Guilford departed, with her own mail and Miss 
Cooke’s, the Sophomores were seen to accompany her. 
The Journey’s Enders looked after them at a distance. 
Had they been within hearing distance, they might 
have been still more puzzled and interested. 

“Now, Miss Guilford,” Grace Gamby was saying. 


FRESHMAN AFFAIRS 


35 


as they went across the back Campus, “we’re going to 
depend on you.” 

“You’re going to do nothing of the sort,” was Jo 
Guilford’s emphatic rejoinder. 

“You know what the girls voted.” 

“They can vote all they want to. They are not 
the Sophomore Class.” 

“Haven’t you any class spirit?” 

“Plenty; but I have a conscience, too.” 

*‘What rot! You must have been brought up by a 
minister’s family.” 

“I was.” 

Martha Wheeler was seen approaching from 
Journey’s End and the Sophomores turned back, and 
let Jo Guilford go on alone. 

“We’re coming to see you to-night,” called Grace 
Gamby after her. 

“I’ll be working in the Library,” replied Jo crisply. 

The Sophomores went back, striking on through 
the grove. In this way they avoided Pegs and the 
others who were returning from the post office. 

“Why weren’t you at class meeting, Martha 
Wheeler?” demanded Pegs as they came upon her. 

“I was shampooing my hair,” replied Martha, evi- 
dently considering that a sufficient reason to justify 
her absence. 

“This was our first class meeting and an important 
one,” from Pegs. “You could have shampooed this 
morning.” 

“Oh — well — I can’t help it. Have you any mail for 
me?” 


36 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Yes, but you don’t deserve it. You don’t even ask 
who was elected class chairman.— -But, girls, you go 
on home. Please tell Miss Cooke I may be late to 
dinner. We have to have a meeting of the Executive 
Committee to plan for to-night. Be sure you’re all 
back of Founder’s Hall at 7.30.” 

“What’s up ?” asked Martha, who was turning back 
with the others. 

“Freshman celebration.” 

“Oh, and are the Sophomores having something, 
too?” asked Martha, showing now considerable inter- 
est. Pegs stopped short to listen as Martha went on, 
“I heard a bunch of them, who cut through the grove 
just as you people came up, say to Jo Guilford, ‘We’re 
coming to see you to-night.’ ” 

“Well, I wonder! — Never mind, you go on home, 
ril see you later,” and Pegs Whiting left them. 

They were coming out of the dining room, dinner 
over, when she returned, hot and out of breath, but 
looking very well satisfied. 

“Well, what is it to be?” asked Louise Gaylord. 

“Oh, a grand time!” 

“A secret?” 

“Rather. Freshmen to meet in half an hour.” 
And Pegs hastened to her room to repair the ravages 
of a hard afternoon and to change to a clean white 
dress. 

She was still dressing when the girls began to 
saunter forth. She called after them, going to the 
head of the stairs, hair brush in hand. 

“Better go up and lock your rooms,” she told them, 
“and take the keys with you.” 


FRESHMAN AFFAIRS 


37 


They stared at her, uncomprehending. 

“They say the Sophomores are planning to visit the 
Freshmen’s rooms to-night. We may as well be pre- 
pared.” 

“Suppose some of us stay home,” suggested Thara. 

“No, every Freshman is wanted. And I wouldn’t 
give them the satisfaction.” 

So, after locking doors, they left with not a few mis- 
givings. 

There was one other precaution taken after they 
had all left. Jo Guilford had just wiped the last glass 
and hung the dish-towels on the rack. 

“Effie,” she said, “you had better lock up every- 
thing, and don’t let any one in. Some of the Sopho- 
mores are planning to visit here to-night and they may 
do something to the Freshman rooms, if they can get 
in. I’m going to the Library in a little while. So 
be sure to lock the front door and don’t let a soul in.” 


CHAPTER IV 


SOPHOMORE ALARUMS 

A SILENT, mysterious throng marched down from 
Founder’s Hall to the President’s House, and at a sign 
from one of the leaders, they began to sing the Col- 
lege song. This was followed with the cheer: 

“Rah! Rah! Rah! 

Rah! Rah! Rah! 

Rah! Rah! Rah! 

President Hartley! 

President Hartley! 

President Hartley!^' 

President Hartley was neither startled nor affronted. 
She had not been President of Hampden College so 
many years in vain. She knew the workings of the 
undergraduate mind, both in groups and individually, 
and especially did she have a soft spot in her heart 
for the Freshman, so full of hopes, so fated for many 
a knock and disappointment. The door opened, and 
she appeared on the veranda of the big house with 
a smile on her lips and in her eyes. At her side was 
a big brown and white collie dog, which insisted on 
coming out with her. Of course, the girls at once 
hushed to a silence. They hoped she would make a 
speech. She did. 

“I am glad to see you all out here to-night, getting 
38 


SOPHOMORE ALARUMS 


39 


better acquainted, just after your organization meet- 
ing and elections. I am sure your choice reflects great 
credit on you all,” and Miss Hartley cast a smiling 
glance at the handsome quaint soft-haired girl in white 
who stood in the circle of the veranda light, having 
been pushed to the van of the Freshmen forces by 
her energetic mates. “You are the largest Freshman 
class we have ever had, and I am sure you will com- 
pare well with every class that has gone before. You 
are certainly enthusiastic and energetic, but I want 
you to be just as enthusiastic for your College as you 
are for your class, and I hope you will always be as 
energetic in work as in play. Remember that every 
single act of yours will reflect credit — or otherwise — 
upon you yourself and upon your College. That 
means all of us, your classmates, your instructors, 
those who have gone before. For this beautiful spot 
in this circle of New England mountains is alive with 
the hearts and souls of all of you ; it feels and dreams 
and loves. . . 

She paused as she looked down upon the mass of 
girls before her. Only the crunching of feet on the 
gravel path could be heard and the rustling of a cool 
breeze through the trees, and beyond in the meadow 
the song of crickets. 

President Hartley drew her black lace scarf closer 
about her shoulders as she felt the chill of the even- 
ing. She recovered with a little start from her 
reverie. 

“Girls of 1923, great times are upon us. You have 
come in the hours of readjustment, the reaching after 
new ideals, new standards of accomplishment. Great 


40 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


is your opportunity; great is your individual respon- 
sibility. We wish you all success.” 

They gave nine Rahs more for President Hartley, 
in which the collie joined with vigorous short barks 
to their great delight. Then, to prove at once that it 
was not all Class spirit that actuated them, but that 
they could do as well for their College, they spelled 
out Hampden’s name musically, as the negro does 
“Chicken.” 

"H — am de way to begin, 

A — am de next letter in, 

M — it am de third, 

P — ^just to season the word I 
D — dat’s just to fill in, 

E — am next to the end, 

H— A— M— P— D— E— N ! 

Dat’s the way to spell Hampden 1” 

They retired from the College President’s house, 
going from hall to hall, to cheer and sing. Then they 
lighted “red fire” and were altogether gay. The upper 
classmen in the halls and dormitories applauded and 
cheered back, the Juniors and Seniors, who were able 
to stop their work or willing to interrupt their social 
pursuits at the moment, putting their heads out of 
lighted upper story windows to greet the newcomers. 
The Freshmen continued to sing “Three cheers for 
’23!” and spelled “Hampden” and Rah’ed immeasur- 
ably, while a trail of red Tight marked their progress 
from spot to spot. 

But what was this? The fire was now trailing 
down toward the Lake, reflecting through the leafy 
arches of the double row of trees that marked the 
road down the hill on one side of the quadrangle of 


SOPHOMORE ALARUMS 


41 


Pageant Field. Down this way the dark irregular 
throng threaded. They crossed the bridge. They 
were now strung out along the path that led up Green- 
view Hill back of Mirror Lake. 

At the top of the hill in a big open space there were 
lights flitting here and there — and men! There have 
to be men occasionally to do the rough labor, even in 
the land of the “Princess.” These were men con- 
nected with the College, busily piling up wood and logs 
of all sorts, supervised by no less a person than Mr. 
Byron, whose big bulk and fine old face could just be 
recognized by the light of the lantern he carried. The 
leaders went up to him, one of the College’s most be- 
loved of characters, and thanked him for his assistance 
and the logs he had furnished, after the College Presi- 
dent had given permission, and the College superin- 
tendent had been interviewed, and the College engineer 
had been telephoned to, and the assistant engineer had 
been routed from his supper, and Mr. Riordan and 
Ham Simpson and Josh Lloyd had been persuaded to 
leave their comfortable boxes in Mr. Simpson’s stable ! 

“There’ll soon be light enough,” said Mr. Byron, 
brushing an imagined fly from one of his great ears. 
“We’re all ready now. Who touches her off?” 

“Miss Hammond ; she’s our Class Chairman, Mr. 
Byron.” 

“Glad to know you. Miss Hammond. You look 
just like one of my granddaughters at Hampden Falls. 
Where’s the box of matches, Josh?” 

Ruth Hammond “touched her off,” and while “she” 
flickered undecidedly to Anally burst forth into a 
mellow blaze, the throng that circled the spot raised to 


42 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


the star-littered sky above the catch that Thara Thara 
had written a week before. 

‘Three cheers for *23 ! 

The Class of the brave and the free! 

With her banner of blue before her, 

Three cheers for *23 1** 

They sang and cheered, while the dark groves of 
pines and cedars that bordered the clearing sent back 
garbled echoes and the great bell on Founder’s Hall 
boomed across the Campus and Lake, telling the hour 
of nine. They took hold of hands and danced in con- 
centric circles that went dizzily round the bonfire in 
opposite directions. 

And then were speeches — of course there were 
speeches! — and when Ruth Hammond unfurled to 
their enthusiastic gaze the piece of navy blue bunting 
that had been cut into a triangular pennant and hastily 
stitched, at five minutes before the twelfth hour, with 
the white numerals 1923, the singing throng of 
Freshmen cheered and cheered with a volume of sound 
that must have carried clear on to Mars. 

“And that’s the banner,” went on Ruth Hammond, 
“that’s going to be our lodestar during the next four 
years. The Class that left it to us made it a banner 
of which to be proud, and it is our duty to keep it so. 
Now let’s give nine more Rahs for 1923 !” 

Then they forced Pegs Whiting to the front, and she 
was really embarrassed. 

“I can’t make speeches,” said she, — “not impromptu 
ones — unless I prepare them way ahead — but I just 
want to say this : I don’t know what our motto is going 


SOPHOMORE ALARUMS 


43 


to be, but it should be something like this — ‘Our flag 
never goes back!’ The Class of 1919 put it forward 
with simply great records. We will have to keep those 
records up. They were an all-round athletic class and 
won every hockey game in the whole four years I And 
that’s what we must do. All of you who are athletic, 
join the Athletic Association at once. It’s a precedent 
that the inter-class hockey games should be played in 
the fall. That cuts out the Freshmen. Everything is 
precedent. But if we want it badly enough, we can 
make them change the time so as to give us a better 
chance. And we can make those changes only through 
the Athletic Association. I talk about athletics be- 
cause that’s what I know most about. 

“But we want to go in for everything we possibly 
can. Don’t just sit and grind. The professors will 
see to it that we keep our work up. But we want to 
be an all-round class like 1919. We want to join 
Professor Howard’s choir if our voices are up to it. 
He’s going to begin recruiting at once, and from what 
I hear, it ought to be just the other way about — we 
ought to fall all over ourselves for the privilege of 
taking one of the empty places. 

“And there are lots of other things, the Dramatic 
Club, the Y. W. C. A. and — ^and the Executive Com- 
mittee wants me to tell you— don’t be backward about 
coming forward 1” 

The speech ended in a resounding laugh of appre- 
ciation and many a resolution was taken then and there 
not to be a “grind.” 

And when the lighted face of the clock on Found- 
er’s Hall, which they could just see in the distance, reg- 


44 ! 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


istered 9.40 and when the men had set up the last 
log in the fire and Mr. Byron had been forced to make 
a good-night speech which was to the effect that “ladies 
were always good for sore eyes,” he headed the pro- 
cession down hill again, with his arm chivalrously 
given to Ruth Hammond, singing in his best Sunday 
go-to-meeting voice, 

“Good-night, ladies, 

Good-night, ladies. 

Good-night, ladies. 

We’re going to leave you now !’* 

The refrain was taken up all along the line of de- 
scent by happy, buoyant Freshmen who were very 
much satisfied with themselves. It was quite dark. 
The red fire was long since spent, and the bonfire had 
been carefully extinguished even down to the last tiny 
spark. The only living lights were the reflections in 
the Lake of bright dormitory windows and the face of 
the clock which now and then showed through the 
trees as they passed — ^and, yes, Mr. Byron’s lantern 
which he had given to a group to carry down the hill 
and to show the path. 

The Journey’s Enders called good-night to their 
friends and struck through the grove, still humming 
“Good-night, ladies.” When they came to the house, 
they found the front door locked and had to ring 
the bell. Efiie answered and opened the door for them. 

“Why all locked up so early?” asked Pegs Whiting 
as they went inside. 

“Well, you see,” replied Effie, “there was nobody in 
the house and there were some Sophomores who came 


SOPHOMORE ALARUMS 


45 


and said they wanted to call on Miss Guilford.” 

“Oh, I clean forgot about the Sophomores!” ex- 
claimed Pegs Whiting. “Did you let them in?” 

“I did not. Miss Guilford told me she was going 
to work in the Library and I told them so. But they 
were very insistent. I must have hurt their feelings, 
for I locked the door after them.” 

“They were here for no good purpose, all right, 
all right. But we had our own rooms locked, too, 
and what with the front door shut, we were surely 
safe.” 

“Well, of all things !” It was Spice Becker’s high- 
pitched voice coming from above stairs. “Did you 
ever ! Will you look here !” 

Pegs Whiting was up two steps at a time. Spice 
had just turned on the light — on such a scene ! 
Couches, mattresses, pillows, chairs, bedding — all had 
been “stacked” as though ready for moving. Pictures 
had either been taken down or turned face to the wall 
— nothing was where or as it had been. 

“That comes from leaving my scatterbrained room- 
mate to lock the room door,” cried Spice Becker dis- 
gustedly. 

“I’m awfully sorry!” said Mary Hubbard in her 
plaintive voice. “You sent me up for your cape and 
I forgot to lock it again. I remember locking it the 
first time.” 

“But how did it happen?” queried Pegs. “Effie says 
she locked up the house and let no one in. She says 
some Sophomores were here to visit Jo Guilford — ” 

“I know they were,” from Spice. “View the re- 
sults.” 


46 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“I can’t understand it. They did not come in.” 

“I can. You don’t have to have Sophomores come 
in from the outside when one of them lives in the 
house.” 

“But Jo was at the Library all evening.” 

‘‘The Library closes at nine. She came in before 
we did. Isn’t she in her room this minute?” 

“I suppose so. — Well, our room was locked, any 
way. I suppose we’re safe.” Pegs opened the door 
and started to enter the dark room. Her speech was 
cut short by her bumping into a rocking chair. She 
fumbled to find a match on her desk, but numerous 
things seemed to be in the way. At last she found a 
match. ‘‘Oh, girls, come here! Isn’t this the wildest 
you ever saw !” 

“Ye gods!” exclaimed the dignified Thara, as they 
all rushed in. 

For there in the center of the room in a rocking 
chair reposed some pillows, that had been decked in 
Pegs’ kimono and dusting cap. Across the lap of the 
fictitious lady lay a sign 

*‘Too fresh am I 

And spoiled to boot — 

Yet awfully young 
And rather cute! 

No doubt ril learn 
And grow to suit. 

To suit — to suit — to suit— 

To suit the Sophomore 1” 

Pegs and Thara sat down on the bare springs of a 
couch and laughed in each other's arms till they wept. 

^^You got it, Pegs dear, didn't you? I wonder who 
it could have been. Probably that Grace Gamby you 


SOPHOMORE ALARUMS 


47 


answereci back that first day. She said she’d even up.” 

Yes, on the other side of the sign, clipped to it with 
a common ordinary clip, was Miss Gamby’s carefully 
engraved card, with this scrawl at the bottom: “Only 
not alone!” 

Alarms came from other two rooms which had 
been left unlocked. The other Freshmen came crowd- 
ing round to view and to condole. 

“You ought to see Julia’s room. Pegs,” said Martha 
Wheeler. “It’s a sight!” 

“That comes from not taking warning to lock the 
doors. — But then ours was locked.” 

“They must have gone out on the piazza roof from 
Spice’s room,” suggested Ida Bradley. 

“That’s possible. But how did they get in in the 
first place? Effie was downstairs all the while.” 

“Well, as I said before,” insisted Spice, “there is a 
Sophomore living in the house.” 

“That’s nonsense. She wouldn’t. What did Jo 
Guilford say? Did she see any of the rooms?” 

“Yes,” answered Martha Wheeler, “mine! I called 
her in right away. She seemed terribly fussed and 
angry — for her. You know she appears so cold- 
blooded and reserved, so you can’t tell what’s inside 
of her or if she feels anything. — She said she was very 
sorry. She is helping Julia and Fanny straighten out 
their room.” 

“I don’t believe — ” began Spice Becker. 

“Spice,” cried Pegs, with fire in her eye, “I think I 
wouldn’t say anything more if I were you. A girl that 
straightens out this mess is certainly a friend, and not 
the one who did it.” 


48 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Oh, well, you ought to know. Anyhow, you 
have direct evidence as to who hazed you! You saw 
her talking to those Sophomores.” 

“Yes — ” They hung on her words. 

“But I heard her say, when I passed them on the 
Campus — I remember now,” interrupted Martha 
Wheeler. “She said, ‘I have a conscience 1’ ” 

“And then?” 

“Grace Gamby said they would be over to visit her 
to-night. She replied very shortly: T’m going to be 
working in the Library all evening !’ ” 

“Good old sport!” from Pegs. 

“M — tn !” from Spice. “But how did they get in ?” 

“I think I have the solution.” 

It was Mary Hubbard who startled them from a seat 
on the window sill, where she had been gazing up at 
the stars as if the upset concerned her not at all. 

“Jo Guilford had nothing to do with it. The Grace 
Gamby crowd never came inside the front door — ” 

“Spin on. Sphinx,” from Pegs. 

“They came up over the piazza roof. They climbed 
the piazza.” 

“But how could they?” 

“It’s easy enough. Anybody could do it. They got 
into our rooms and then went on upstairs to the rooms 
that were unlocked.” 

“A Sherlock Holmes!” cried Julia. “A Sherlock 
Holmes come to judgment!” 


CHAPTER V 

JUST EVENTS 

The days moved on and events with them. The 
girls became so busy with the things of the day that 
they scarcely had time to describe them in their home 
letters. The feeling whose mention was taboo hardly 
had a chance to manifest itself. 

The date of the Senior-Freshman reception drew 
near. The individual invitations were out and Pegs 
was decidedly pleased to be invited by the very popular 
Louise Gaylord, for the Sophomore gibe at her expense 
had rankled a bit. This helped though, as Louise Gay- 
lord was decidedly one of the biggest and most impor- 
tant girls of the College, as well as the best beloved 
at Journey’s End. But, as there were many more 
Freshmen than Seniors in the College, many Seniors 
had to take two of the younger girls, and so Louise 
asked Thara, too. 

Louise had made good — a rather short, plump girl 
from Michigan, with a fine, keen mind whose love for 
poetry and inclination toward literary pursuits with a 
very real sense of humor, made her an appreciated 
companion to be vied for. She had been on every lit- 
erary board throughout her College career and was the 
president of the important literary society, invitation to 
which was one of the most prized honors of the whole 
years of College. 


49 


50 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


The girls were not in the habit of breaking rules, 
puch as the one about going to bed at ten o’clock, but 
occasionally there were extenuating circumstances. 
One of these was a very blue Friday night, following a 
nerve-racking oral examination in Latin, in which some 
of them had done themselves far from justice. That 
night, when ten had struck and the proctor had turned 
the lights low in the halls. Pegs threw on her kimono 
and pattered along in stockinged feet to Lou’s room, to 
seek consolation. She found two other Freshmen there 
— Ida Bradley and Martha Wheeler — ensconced on 
Lou Gaylord’s couch, having come on the same errand, 
and a minute later they were joined by Julia Talbot, 
who had, as she said, felt a call to confess and talk over 
her troubles. The other three girls acknowledged the 
same call and urge to confession, and the smothered 
laugh that resulted was very general. They called 
their meeting “a confidence bee !” Lou kept them there 
for quite a few minutes, and in the whispered confer- 
ence that followed each felt consoled and ready to make 
a more strenuous ef¥ort after the scholastic achieve- 
ments that might be theirs for the trying. Louise 
Gaylord was a wonderful father confessor and con- 
soler ! 

The Senior-Freshman reception was the most formal 
affair of the Freshman year, and for days ahead of 
time the girls had been frequenting the laundry to press 
out their graduation dresses of crisp organdy or more 
elaborate evening gowns. On the day of the big event 
College wagons could be seen going to the Student- 
Alumnae Building laden with palms and ferns from 
the plant houses and Seniors in their black caps and 


JUST EVENTS 


51 


gowns hurried there in off moments. These were the 
girls of the various committees, who, once inside, 
doffed the venerated and privileged uniform and 
worked “like Trojans” to decorate the big auditorium 
and make it ready for the reception. 

What a fussing there- was, before dinner that night! 
Final last minute shampoos and borrowing of curling 
irons I Last manicures, wild searchings for gloves and 
stockings ! 

There was a butterfly array of varied colors at 
the dinner table, the girls all eager and bright and 
happy. Pegs looked particularly well in her blue 
charmeuse with slippers and stockings in a contrast- 
ing shade of bronze. Thara wore corn yellow and 
was pretty as an old fashioned miniature. Spice 
gave every evidence of mature beauty in a. black, de- 
murely cut, lace frock, slightly old for her, but very 
becoming. 

There was a dignified line of couples and trios cross- 
ing the Campus at a little before eight, carefully en- 
folded in scarfs and capes. The Seniors were escorting 
their proud Freshmen to the reception, talking shyly 
and politely to each other, in the manner of folks on 
such occasions. 

The dignified trio consisting of Louise Gaylord, Pegs 
Whiting and Sarah Thayer were no exception, to the 
general rule of formality that pervaded the atmosphere. 
It was as if these girls so used to one another in mid- 
dies and kimonos, had to get to know one another anew 
in their more formal frocks and gowns. 

“Did you have your voices tried for the vesper choir 
to-day?” asked Louise. 


52 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Yes, we went,” replied Pegs. “And Thara — Pro- 
fessor Howard took her in a jiffy!” 

“Isn’t that fine!” 

“I’m so glad, Louise, I don’t know what to do,” said 
Thara. 

“You ought to have seen Professor Howard — how 
he cocked his ear when he heard her voice !” 

“Pegs! Don’t!” 

“A soprano like yours, dear child, is always a treas- 
ure,” said Lou. “I’m glad you’re in. It is such fine 
training. I enjoy it tremendously myself.” 

“We can go together to rehearsals, can’t we, 
Louise?” said Thara, looking at the Senior worship- 
ingly. 

“Now don’t forget me,” said Pegs. “I belong, too.” 

“You!” exclaimed Lou. “I didn’t know you had a 
voice.” 

“Neither did I,” laughed Pegs. “I can sing like 
a square piano! I think Professor Howard took me 
on the echo of Thara’s. But he did take me.” 

“Why, I’m so glad!” said Louise Gaylord. “Con- 
gratulations !” 

“Thank you. I can imagine Mother and Dad when 
they get the news. Why, Mother’d sooner have that 
than if I had gotten a whole row of A’s in my work. 
She insists she likes a girl to have charm and the old- 
fashioned accomplishments !” 

“She’s right in a way. Some girls at College are 
apt to forget the importance of those things.” 

“Journey’s End has again been lucky. Martha and 
Fanny are in, too,” added Thara. “They’re awfully 
happy over it.” 


JUST EVENTS 


63 


They had arrived at the great stone porticoes of 
Student-Alumnse Hall. The ponderous doors swung 
open upon a fairy scene — a scene ablaze with light 
and color, gay with bright dresses and flowers, buzz- 
ing with talk and merry-hearted laughter, fragrant 
with the scent of perfume and roses. There were 
palms and ferns in cozy nooks, with easy chairs 
amongst them, and above, fastened in the fumed oak 
railing of the balcony, the Senior and Freshman colors, 
streamers of blue and yellow bunting, intertwined. 

The airy music of a stringed orchestra, almost hid- 
den behind a mass of palms, pervaded the auditorium, 
interwove itself with the talk and laughter, and was 
one with the fragrance of the flowers. 

There were introductions and again introductions, 

and a constant buzz of “Miss , do you know 

Miss — ?” while near the foot of the stage was 

the reception committee composed of the Senior Class 
officers and finally President Hartley at the head. 
Ruth Hammond did the honors of introducing the 
Freshmen to the Senior officers. “Running the gaunt- 
let” they called it, but it had to be done. 

President Hartley had a smile and a word of indi- 
vidual welcome for every one. All the breeding, charm 
and courtesy that made this gentlewoman so outstand- 
ing a personality among her fellow-workers was used 
that night to bring a sense of well-being to the most 
shy and awkward of the Freshman throng. That 
beautiful smile of hers was remembered as the high 
light of the entire evening. 

After the reception proper there was dancing, and 
many of the girls took this opportunity to “swap” 


54 ! 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


partners and so become still further acquainted. 

And finally came refreshments — is any affair perfect 
without refreshments? And the word “eats” is espe- 
cially dear to the Freshman heart. Frappe and cakes 
were served between dance numbers, and, too, there 
were tiny sandwiches with all sorts of intriguing fill- 
ings, and olives and candy and tiny, tiny cups of coffee, 
so tiny that no one need fear resultant insomnia 1 

Let it not be thought that the Freshmen went through 
the evening without misgivings. Although there was a 
tradition that Freshmen were to be left unmolested by 
the Sophomores on the night of the Senior reception, 
feeling had been running high between the two classes, 
for not only Journey’s End had been “roughhoused” 
that night of the bonfire, but other Freshman rooms in 
both dormitories and cottages. So there had been much 
open speculation as to probable Sophomore conduct. 
The Seniors had sent a special message to the Sopho- 
mores, that acquiescence in the tradition of the College 
was expected of them, and that they were to leave the 
Freshmen alone. 

But would they do it? The Freshmen had had their 
doubts and had taken precautions. 

But the Class of 1922 always did the unexpected. 
When the final good-nights had been sung, together 
with “Auld Lang Syne,” to orchestra accompaniment, 
and the girls had put on their wraps, and gone out 
happily, but thoughtfully, into the night and home to 
realities, and when they had unlocked their doors and 
turned on the lights — everything was as they had left 
it! 

The Sophomores seemed to have given up any idea 


JUST EVENTS 


55 


of trout^ling them again. But a certain group, headed 
by the irrepressible Grace Gamby, seemed striving to 
create a sort of reign of terror of the mind. They 
considered the action of the Freshmen in seeking to 
have the interclass hockey match changed from late 
autumn to spring exceedingly “fresh” and unprece- 
dented, and when the Athletic Association voted for 
the change as reasonable, their annoyance knew no 
bounds, for all of which some of them were inclined 
to hold the Journey’s Enders chiefly responsible. 

Mountain Day came the week after, when the crisp 
October air had turned the leaves. Mount Have- 
lock had decked itself gorgeously in a many hued 
mantle of crimson and russet and gold. All the Col- 
lege turned out for one final tramp, following the road 
up the Mountain, sticks in hand, sweaters slung over 
shoulders, each clinging to the ever-present box lunch- 
eon that shows man’s humbleness and kinship to the 
common earth. 

But above — up there from the top of the earth — » 
reached by breatk-taking climbs, the glories of the 
mountains were a hundred fold. Peaks rose on peaks, 
frowning with barren rocks or plumed with nodding 
trees. Below, the tree-tops of a lower level spread a 
carpet of many colors and glorious design, such as the 
hand of the Almighty alone knows how to weave. 
And beyond spread the surrounding country, with its 
thin, threading roads, its tiny white steeples and minia- 
ture houses, and specks moving slowly along which 
proved to be men. To the left, the squares of harvest 
fields, green and yellow and brown, like the patches of 
a quilt; to the right, the silvery band of a smooth. 


56 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


silent river, that made its way between banks of purple 
and crimson and gold. 

It was a day of freedom for the College girls. They 
breathed lungfuls of living air, they toiled up rocky, 
forbidding peaks, they lolled on the grassy slopes, and 
dreamed and saw visions in the far landscapes — and 
they ate. And when they finally 'moved down at the 
close of the day and went home in the falling twilight, 
trudging the dusty roads and singing as they went, 
they were a bit weary, a bit foot-sore^ — but, oh, how 
enormously happy! 

Two weeks later the sword of Damocles fell. The 
Grace Gamby group of Sophomores had been holding 
the thread. 

Now, College is not one big frolic after another. 
It is work and work and work, and a vast acquaintance 
with the inside of recitation rooms and laboratories. 
It means hours of research in the big, silent Library 
and much delving into commonplace Latin and Math 
books to the limit of waking hours. The frolics are 
only the high lights, the tonics that buoy the nerves to 
the serious and real work. 

It was now the last day of a glorious October, the 
end of a perfect month. It was Halloween. Looked 
forward to? Yes, and made ready for. The whole 
College planned to celebrate in the way it loved best — 
by masquerading. 

The Journey’s Enders had been especially busy, for 
they had decided to represent the Mad Tea Party from 
“Alice in Wonderland.” Such a planning and making 
ready as there was, such a plying of scissors and paste 
and pins on ephemeral costumes of crepe paper and 


JUST EVENTS 


67 


muslins. The efforts interrupted by recitations were 
renewed with vigor at the close of the work day, and 
at four-thirty to-day every thought of study was 
dropped. 

Effie was likewise busy, for Miss Cooke was prepar- 
ing a special dinner for the occasion, and Jo Guilford, 
her hair streaming into her eyes from her efforts, was 
helping in every way that she could. As soon as pos- 
sible she, too, dropped her apron and hurried to her 
room to “dress up." 

The girls came trooping at the bell summons, and 
were soon ranged round the festive board: Thara, 
in a blond wig, made a sweet, innocent Alice; Spice 
was the Hatter in a fifty-year-old suit of Mr. Noah 
Simpson’s and stove-pipe hat. Pegs was the March 
Hare, with beautiful white felt ears flapping. They 
made a pillow of Mary Hubbard, who was the meek 
little Dormouse. 

And the others came as Kings and Queens and 
Knaves from the famous pack of cards, and Potatoes 
and Cabbages to represent the democracy of “Cabbages 
and Kings.” 

In the center, threatening to behead everybody at 
each mouthful, sat the Queen of Hearts, in no less a 
person than Miss Cooke, whom the Potato behind her, 
Jo Guilford, had helped dress and adorn in crepe paper 
crown and garments with borders. Opposite her sat 
the King of Hearts, Louise Gaylord, who strove to 
pacify the Queen and to make her see reason. 

They chattered of unintelligent nothings and looked 
wise, and they vied with each other at inventing non- 
sense. They made Julia recite the “Jabberwok” and 


58 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


offered a flood of nonsense rhymes between courses. 

After dinner Alice, the Mad Hatter, the March 
Hare, the King and Queen of Hearts and the Vege- 
tables, together with the Cards of sorts, retired to the 
barn to duck for apples and cast molten lead and apple- 
parings, and to look for their fate in a mirror. They 
ducked and melted lead and looked with gales of de- 
lighted laughter and thrills of hair-raising apprehen- 
sion. Thara Thara was sure she saw a light-haired 
young man, but Pegs, who was peeping over her shoul- 
der into the mirror, too, was sure it was Buff, Miss 
Cooke’s yellow Angora cat. 

“It’s no fun telling fortunes in a nice quiet barn like 
this,” said Spice Becker. “The ghosts don’t come in 
here. We ought to go down by the cemetery, put water 
in our mouths, and go along and go along, and the 
first name we hear will be the name of the man we are 
going to marry.” 

“Thanks,” replied Pegs. “All marry the same 
man ?” 

“Silly! Of course not; we put water in our mouths 
one at a time.” 

“Well, I’d rather stay here,” said Thara, who was 
already satisfied, having seen her Fate. 

“You’re afraid,” said Spice. 

“We’re not, either,” retorted Pegs. “I’ll go, if you 
will.” 

“So will I,” ventured Thara, backing up her room- 
mate a little tremulously. 

“And so will I,” piped up Mary Hubbard. 

Spice, of course, had to go and Julia Talbot and 
two or three others joined them, bringing along a 


JUST EVENTS 


59 


pitcher filled with water. They put on wraps, leaving 
their costumes on the foyer window seat. Miss Cooke 
had excused herself and gone. 

It was a pitch-black night, with a gray dull blanket 
of clouds that hid away moon and stars and threatened 
rain, and the chilly gusts that now and then stirred the 
dead leaves in the roadsides were not pleasant. 

Nine o’clock struck as they started up the road 
in mysterious Indian file. Here and there still flitted 
village children whom you could discern by their 
pumpkin jack-o’-lanterns. And as they passed the 
carriage drive at the side of the house the intent 
Freshmen might have noticed three white-sheeted 
figures loitering at the opposite corner, consulting 
deeply. 

“They say they are going to do the cemetery stunt,’’ 
said one to another. 

“My, but they’re brave. Let’s give them a run for 
their money.” 

“Where, here?” 

“No, up there. There’s a short cut back of Deacon 
Chase’s house.” 

“Are you game?” 

“I — I’m not afraid, if you aren’t.” 

“Let’s.” 

Three figures were soon lost in the darkness, as 
they crossed the corner of the Campus toward Main 
Street. 

The Freshmen, who had started with giggles and 
brave jokes, hushed themselves to whispers as they 
progressed up the road and left the friendly lights 
of Main Street behind them. Beyond in the gusty 


60 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


night could just be discerned the white-stoned village 
of the dead. 

“Spice, you first,” they said, handing her the pitcher. 
They were starting up the narrow path through the 
headstones and monuments. 

“I’d just as soon,” she said, but her hands, as she 
took the pitcher, trembled. 

She filled her mouth and went on a few steps. There 
was a giggle behind her, but it was a nervous one. 
Ahead was a white mound with a white headstone. 
Why she was staring at this, she did not know. She 
was shaking. 

Suddenly a name sounded out of the empty noth- 
ing ; “Jehoshaphat !” 

The girls clung to one another, wondering which 
one of them had spoken it. 

“Jehoshaphat!” 

“I come!” cried a hoarse audible whisper ahead. 
The white mound before them seemed to rise up — It 
did! It actually rose and was extending yearning 
arms — 

They dropped the water pitcher and turned back, 
belter skelter, treading on one another's heels. Spice 
Becker was choking over the mouthful of water that 
had gone down the wrong way. 

“Wait for me !” she cried, her heart in her mouth. 

“Jehoshaphat!” The long drawn out sigh still per- 
vaded the burying ground. 

The girls did not wait on any order of going, but 
took turns in leading the retreat home. And never 
before had those friendly portals seemed so good to 
them. 


JUST EVENTS 


61 


In the foyer hall a low fire was burning, having 
been lighted by Miss Cooke earlier in the evening. 
Before this they dropped, panting, to regain their 
flagging courage. 

Miss Cooke came in, with Buff under her arm, and 
found them giggling nervously, not daring to look at 
one another for shame and perplexity. They told her 
the story. 

“It may have been the College ghost,” ended Pegs, 
recovering herself. 

“It has been known to walk,” said Miss Cooke, and 
with a laughing good-night she turned into her own 
apartment. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE GHOST WALKS 

There was no sitting up to study that night. As 
the chill of the dying fire fell upon the silent group, 
they one by one shook that creepy feeling from them 
and went off to bed. The last three, Pegs, Thara 
Thara and Mary Hubbard, went off together, turn- 
ing out the electric light in the hall, where now there 
was a dull glow from the last embers crumbling into 
ashes. 

“Well,” whispered Mary, as they parted at her 
door, “I shall dream about it all night.” 

“Mercy on us!” exclaimed Spice Becker. “I hope 
you won’t do any such thing. You’ve been talking 
and screaming enough in your sleep of late, with your 
Latin prose and your Tntiger Vitae.’ If you wake 
me to-night, I shall jump on you like two ton of brick, 
young lady.” 

“Well, I’ll try not to do it,” ’plained Mary, “only 
these are extenuating circumstances.” 

“I suppose these are — ex — ex — tenuating circum- 
stances — ” For Spice knew her roommate well 
enough by this time to be sorry for her. 

“Spice, dear,” said Mary, “if I do dream, it’ll be 
worse for me than for you.” 

“That must have been a bad dream you had last 
night, Mary,” said Pegs. “Was that you who was 
62 


THE GHOST WALKS 65 

making the night hideous with your cries? I woke 
up with a chilly creep. Was it you that screamed?” 

“I expect it was, Pegs,” said Spice Becker, show- 
ing her white teeth. “Mary was dreaming about my 
shoe.” 

“Your shoe?” 

“Yes,” drawled Mary, flushing but appreciative. 
“I was dreaming that Spice’s big shoe lay on the floor 
beside my couch — there, look in — ^just the way it is 
now. Spice always flings her shoe, you know, if I 
drop one word after ten. But this time it was her 
shoe that was talking to me. My hair just stood on 
end as I looked at it, and I said, ‘Why, I didn’t know 
that you could talk!’ And it grinned at me just like 
Spice and said: ‘Talk! of course I can talk; I have 
a tongue !’ ” 

“Isn’t that the brightest thing you ever heard Mary 
say? My dear, you should always be asleep.” 

“And then it lolled and wagged its tongue so un- 
cannily and grinned, that I just screamed.” 

“Of all things!” said Pegs. “And what happened 
next ?” 

“Spice was shaking me and I woke up.” 

“Well, I was scared stiff,” said Spice. “I thought 
that she had seen ghosts. But I am up to her tricks 
now, and I will put her on the piazza roof to-night, 
if she SO much as peeps! Good-night.” And she 
went in. 

“Good-night,” from the other two. 

“Oh, and — Pegs,” put in Mary, her head lingering 
half out her door, “did you get that money order 
cashed ?” 


64 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Yes, thanks.” 

“Be sure to hide the money.” 

“I will — in my shoe !” And the doors were shut. 

Pegs did not fall asleep to-night the instant that her 
head touched the pillow. For a long time she lay 
there, looking through the gloom at the vague square 
of a picture frame on the wall opposite her, that was 
illuminated by the shining of a street lamp through 
the open window. And she thought of home, and 
mostly of Dad. The last thing she remembered was 
the clock on Founder’s Hall striking twenty-four — ^was 
it the echo as the strokes glanced off Chemistry Hall, 
or was it her brain? Her thoughts began to get 
jumbled up and she dozed off. 

It seemed only a few minutes that her eyes were 
shut, when suddenly something made them fly open 
again — a shadow passed between her and the light. 
What was it? A fancy of the night. No, a board 
creaked and creaked again — that was no fancy. 

As her senses began to return she could catch the 
measured breathing of her roommate from the other 
couch. That shadow was not her roommate — ^but it 
was a shadow, and at the window. 

Summoning up her courage, she pushed back the 
bedclothes and went to the window. A breeze wafted 
the little side curtains into her face. Outside across 
the dark piazza roof that single street lamp beamed 
into the still darkness. The only sound was the breath- 
ing of the night wind through the trees. 

No, there was something else. There was a sound 
of stealthy feet on the gravel path on the Campus be- 


THE GHOST WALKS 


65 


yond the apple-tree gate. And then her eyes began 
to discern a something in the darkness — a white some- 
thing that contrasted with the night, that moved back 
and forth like a restless spirit in prayer — ^The Ghost ! 
The College Ghost! 

Her hair seemed to rise, cold waves crept over her 
forehead and her tongue choked her! At last she 
recovered some presence of mind. 

“Sarah!” she called. “Wake up! Sarah!” 

“What — what is the matter?” came from the 
comer. 

“Wake up,” said Pegs, running to her and catch- 
ing her shoulder. “Come to the window and see.” 

But when they stood at the window, their heads 
together in the opening between the curtains, there was 
nothing, no white shadow moved below. Only the 
night, and the breeze, and the single lamp across the 
expanse of the piazza roof. 

“I think you were dreaming. Pegs,” whispered 
Sarah. 

“I don’t know,” replied Pegs tremulously, running 
her hand over her eyes. “If I was, I took a long 
time to dream it.” 

When the rising bell rang next morning. Pegs 
opened her eyes and looked first of all to the win- 
dow. It was natural enough in broad daylight. And 
then outside — as she put on her bathrobe and slippers 
and pulled down the sash — there was nothing strange 
or mysterious or spooky. The sun gleamed back from 
the white gravel path where IT had marched its vigil. 
An assistant from the chemistry department was now 


66 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


walking up the path toward Science Hall, and Rags, 
the dog hound of Tommy Hughes, next door, was 
dancing delightedly around her footsteps or chasing to 
retrieve a mythical stick. 

Only one thing she saw that she hadn’t noticed be- 
fore. Right in front of her windO'W was a white 
square something — the wash cloth of Julia Talbot, 
upstairs, she thought, hung up to dry and blown down 
by the wind. She raised the window and took it in. 
It was not a wash cloth. 

“What is it?” asked Sarah. “Was that your 
ghost?” 

“No, it’s a handkerchief,” replied Pegs. “And here 
is the name inked on it — ‘J<^®®phine Guilford.’ Well, 
how did it get here?” 

“What is that in the corner, Pegs ?” asked Thara. 

“That? — Why, it’s chewing gum. This handker- 
chief is never Jo’s. You know how she abhors it.” 

“Well, even so — ” argued Sarah. “Maybe it was 
dropped by your ghost.” 

“The ghost down in the path ?” 

“But you said you felt a shadow pass in front of 
the window.” 

“Yes, there was a shadow, but it was up here.” 

And Pegs’ brow wrinkled in thought. 

“But this won’t do. Hurry, let’s dress. I’ll have 
to go to town to-day to see about that suit,” and she 
began to run the water in the basin in their closet. 

“You got your money order cashed, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, though a hundred doesn’t go very far these 
days.” And towel in hand she went over to her 
chiffonier and pulled out her pocketbook. 


THE GHOST WALKS 


67 


“What’s the matter, Pegs?” from her roommate, 
as a queer look stole over the other’s face. 

“It was so bulky — my pocketbook — and now — ” 

The clasps were open. 

“The money — it’s not here !” 

“Gone?” 

“Yes, you remember my putting it there the last 
thing last night.” 

“I certainly do. Look in the drawer.” 

And Thara paused in combing her long black hair, 
and, comb in hand, and hair streaming down her back, 
she went over to where her roommate was starting 
to rummage among her handkerchiefs and neckwear 
and miscellaneous articles. But that drawer was ran- 
sacked and emptied and each thing picked out in- 
dividually to no avail. 

“Look below; it might have fallen into the drawer 
below.” 

But there, too, was nothing, nor in the drawer still 
further down. 

“Well, let’s look through mine now,” suggested 
Thara. 

“Why, what for, Thara? I certainly put it here.” 

“Well, that money was no hallucination,” said the 
other. “But you never can tell. Come, let’s go 
through it.” 

“Girl, dear, I don’t distrust you.” 

“I know you don’t — but, honey, come on.” 

The breakfast bell found them still rummaging and 
disheveled — but without success. 

“I’m sorry. Pegs. I’ll lend you some money until 
you find it,” 


68 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Thanks, dear, but I don’t think that I ever shall. 
I guess I may as well give up my trip to town to-day.” 

A loud knocking came on their door. 

“Wake up, sleepy heads! What have you locked 
yourselves in for?” 

“Is it locked?” And Thara pulled her kimono 
closer around her and opened the door, “I remem- 
ber now, it was that ghost scare last night. So I 
locked the door when we went to bed.” 

“Why,” exclaimed Spice Becker, “are you still un- 
dressed? You’re as bad as Mary. I can’t wake her 
up. — What’s the matter?” 

“Pegs’ money is gone.” And they closed the door 
and began to whisper her the story. 

“Well, it looks like an inside affair. Are you sure 
the money didn’t drop out before you put the pocket- 
book in?” 

“Sure as sure! It was inside of this pocket which 
locks — see how hard it is to open. And Thara saw me 
put it in before we turned the light out. It couldn’t 
have dropped out.” 

“And your door was locked ?” 

“Yes, you saw that yourself. — Unless that ghost — ” 

“What ghost? Not the cemetery ghost. That — 
that was a joke. — But come, dress yourselves. You’re 
already late for breakfast. Tell me afterwards. I’m 
hungry as a bear and I like things hot. — Give my 
roommate a poke, if she’s still sleeping when you come 
down. Look at her,” as Spice threw her door open, 
“making believe she doesn’t hear. — ^Wake up, I say ! — 
Goodness, look at the mud all over the bedspread! 
I do believe she went to bed with her shoes on !” 


THE GHOST WALKS 


69 


“Say nothing about the money to the other girls, 
Spice,” cautioned Pegs. 

“I’ll keep still. Don’t worry.” 

But think as they would, and search as they would, 
the day passed and no trace of the money could be 
found. The three girls said nothing, but as the day 
wore on, they became more and more perplexed. Din- 
ner found them all pre-occupied, until the Senior-op- 
posite broke the silence that had settled over the table, 
where the girls were mainly occupied with eating. 

“Have any more ghosts strolled in from the ceme- 
tery, Jo?” 

“I don’t know,” replied the Sophomore. “I was 
too busy shopping in town to-day.” 

“Why, you’ve bought yourself a new serge* dr'ess ! 
How pretty !” 

Pegs and Thara looked across at Jo with' interest. 
She had been looking so* shabby lately. 

“It’s about time,” said Jo. “I expected any day 
to fall apart like the ‘one*-horse shay.’ ” 

“Mrs. Muller did a good ‘piece of work, Josephine,” 
remarked Miss Cooke, disposing of a piece of bread. 
“It’s a very pretty dress.” 

“But did anybody see any ghosts last night, besides 
the cemetery ones?” persisted the Senior. “They say 
at Potter Hall they heard queer sounds long past mid- 
night, and somebody was seen going down to* the 
boat-house.” 

“A rather sporty ghost,” declared Miss Cooket “It 
must have been the watchman.” 

“Oh, do let’s finish dinner first,” pleaded Mary. 


70 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Didn’t we have enough ghosts in the cemetery last 
night?” And she looked troubled and apprehensive. 

“I think Mary is right,” put in Jo-. “It’s only one 
night in the year when ghosts walk, so- let them rest 
in peace to-night.” 

“Well, Jo,” said Spice Becker, “since you take up 
the cudgels for the ghosts, too, I suppose we’ll have 
to stop.” 

Mary, who had followed the conversation of now 
one, now another, drew a sigh of relief. “I don’t like 
to talk of ghosts, because I saw one fast night.” 

“Saw one!” Pegs and Thara leaned beyond their 
next neighbors to look at her. 

“Well, I didn’t really see one — it was all a dream. 
There was hay and loose boards around, and I think 
wind and mud. — Nasty!” 

“Mary, dear,” laughed Spice. “That was a dream ! 
There was hay around, but it was oozing out of your 
head.” 

“Cicely,” admonished Miss Cooke. “That was a 
rather unpleasant dream, Mary.” 

“No, I really liked it then, because I went — ^and I 
went — and I went. And I had hardly any clothes 
on!” 

A howl came from the entire dining room. 

“That’s usually the way,” laughed Senior Louise, 
“but I didn’t think you’d be quite so absent-minded.” 

But when they rose from the table and went, arms 
about one another’s shoulders, to stand around the fire- 
place in the hall. Spice took Pegs aside. 

“I think that ghost walked off with your money.” 

“What do you mean?” 


THE GHOST WALKS 


71 


“Jo has a new dress — the first she ever had for ages, 
I should say,” she whispered to Pegs, with a strange 
look in her eyes. 

“Yes, it is very pretty.” 

“It is.” 


CHAPTER VII 


SUSPICIONS 

Another day passed. There were no further de- 
velopments and no discoveries. The girls kept their 
secret well to themselves and Pegs decided to do with- 
out her new winter suit. She did not know what to 
think. It was Spice Becker, who was not the least 
concerned in the affair, financially, that agitated and 
tried to convert her to a theory of her own. 

Spice, who was a snob at heart, had never cared for 
Jo Guilford. She could never imagine associating 
with a girl who came from so obscure a source as a 
farm in Galesport, Maine, and who had strength and 
will enough to work her way through college, by help- 
ing to cook and wash dishes in Miss Cooke’s kitchen 
and keeping the public rooms of the house well-ordered 
generally. Jo did do all that, and earned even enough 
to send some money back home to help run a now 
rather diminutive farm. 

No, Spice craved society of her “own standing.” 
She begrudged Pegs to Thara Thara and had no use 
for the absent-minded creature that had been allotted 
her — Mary Hubbard. She thought of her roommate 
as a very near relative of the old lady who went to 
the cupboard to get her poor dog a bone, and was so 
foolish as to have forgotten that really she had thrown 
it into the garbage pail the day before. Poor dog! 

72 


SUSPICIONS 


73 


But most of all, her wrath of mind had been expended 
on that poor Sophomore upstairs, and especially since 
her assumption that the latter was in a conspiracy with 
the whole Sophomore class to “do” any misguided 
Freshman — let us add, like herself, who needed “do- 
ing.” 

So Spice always had her head next to Pegs’ and 
kept whispering in her ear. 

“I think,” said Spice, as the three were lolling the 
next night among the pillows on the couches in Pegs’ 
room, “that we ought to tell Miss Cooke.” 

“That is my opinion, too,” said Thara. “She ought 
to know that something has been stolen here — if it has 
been stolen. But I should hate to go on and tell 
her — 

“What you think,” completed Spice. 

“No, what you think!” exclaimed Pegs. “And I 
think you’re all off !” 

“Yes? Didn’t Jo help you get that money order 
cashed? Yes, and how did Jo Guilford’s handker- 
chief get around the front of the house? It didn’t 
float out of any of our windows. You know Jo is 
seldom invited into our room.” 

“All the better for her, I think. Well, she’s in- 
vited into our room, anyway.” 

“But she hasn’t been here lately. Pegs.” 

“No, she hasn’t. But somebody may have taken 
her handkerchief by mistake.” 

“It didn’t drop from upstairs,” said Spice. “I in- 
quired.” 

“Well, then. Miss Sherlock Holmes, how do you 
account for the chewing-fifum ? Jo never chews gum 1” 


74 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Oh,” Spice shrugged her shoulders, “and we 
thought she would never steal.” 

Pegs arose in exasperation and pulled her coat off 
a hanger in the closet. 

“You can sit here and talk if you like, but I am 
not going to stay and listen to it. I’m going to the 
Library. If that handkerchief had anything to do 
with my hundred dollars, it wasn’t Jo that was using 
it as a gum receptacle.” 

And she flung out of the room. 

“Well,” said Pegs, as she returned from the Li- 
brary somewhat later, pulling off her rubbers and drop- 
ping her coat on the couch, “I’m sure Jo didn’t do 
that!” 

“Do what?” asked Sarah, raising her head from the 
Geometry she was working over. 

“Why, steal my—” 

A knock came on the door. It was Spice Becker. 

“Oh, hullo. Pegs. I’ve been looking for you to 
get your superior knowledge on pulse and fever.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why, Mary Hubbard has a cold and she looks so 
dreadfully! Miss Cooke is with her now, dosing her 
up — with chicken remedies, I suppose.” 

“Now, see here. Spice — Miss Cooke is mighty good 
to come and look after Mary, and she’s been mighty 
good to you and to the rest of us. None of your spice 
on her!” 

“Oh, well, I meant nothing. I’m sure if anybody 
wants to nurse Mary Hubbard with a cold, they are 


SUSPICIONS 


75 


welcome to do it.” She dropped down next to Pegs’ 
coat. “Have you discovered anything yet ?” 

“Not a thing.” 

“I should certainly investigate Jo Guilford. You 
notice how prosperous she’s looking these days. She 
even is getting some fat on.” 

“She’s been working very hard. That’s where the 
money comes from. Besides, she eats Miss Cooke’s 
meals — no wonder she’s gaining. It seems to me what 
you put on isn’t so little.” 

“My waist needs four inches to button in the front. 
See — I have to wear a scarf down the front to cover 
it.” 

The others smiled at the makeshift. 

“The funniest thing about it is — do you remember, 
when our rooms were raided that the persons who 
did it climbed up from the roof of the piazza?” 

“That is so — only you thought it was Jo all the 
time, and she was inside the house.” 

“Well, this was practically the same thing — Pegs, I 
think it’s your duty to tell Miss Cooke now. She 
ought to be told, anyway, if things are taken at her 
house. And you have a perfectly good clew in that 
handkerchief.” 

“Well, perhaps I ought to tell her — but if you 
breathe a word about Jo, I’ll eat you alive!” 

A knock on the door cut short further argument. 
It was Miss Cooke. 

“I think Mary will be comfortable to-night,” she 
said. “I put a mustard plaster on her chest and gave 
her some medicine and a good hot drink of ginger. 


76 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


I left some tablets for her. She has a frightful cough 
and a high temperature. Wherever she got it, I don’t 
know. Doesn’t she dress warmly enough?” 

“She bundles. She dresses too much. I can’t make 
out where she can get a cold.” 

“I’ll be up again to see her. Don’t let her get un- 
covered.” And Miss Cooke put her hand on the knob 
of the door. 

“Miss Cooke — ” hesitated Pegs. “We were just 
talking about you and I have something to tell you.” 

“Why, yes,” and Miss Cooke came further into the 
room. “What is it?” 

“I’ll — I’ll have to tell you that — that some money 
disappeared from my room night before last.” 

“Yes?” 

“It was stolen,” put in Spice. 

“I — I don’t know,” went on Pegs. “It was like 
this — ” and she told the incident as it happened, omit- 
ting only all reference to the handkerchief. 

“How dreadful, girls! Why haven’t you told me 
all this before?” 

“We didn’t like to,” replied Pegs. “And then, I 
thought maybe I just lost it.” 

“But we thought we had better tell you,” put in 
Spice. 

“It was very peculiar indeed. It looks like a real 
theft. And yet who would climb up on the piazza 
roof and know just where to put his hand on the 
money ?” 

“That’s just it. Miss Cooke,” put in Spice, “it was 
somebody who knew I” 

“What do you mean ?” Miss Cooke, who had 


SUSPICIONS 


77 


thrown herself into an easy chair, sat up erect in it 
and looked at the girl squarely. 

“Why— why— ” 

“What is it, Margaret?’’ Miss Cooke turned to 
Pegs, who, startled by her formal name, almost 
jumped. 

“Oh, Miss Cooke — why — ’’ 

“We have some ideas about it,’’ said Spice, recover- 
ing herself. 

“What are they?’’ 

“You see — there were several people in the house 
who knew about the money order.’’ 

“You three girls, of course — ’’ 

“Yes — ’’ Spice colored involuntarily, “and some 
others. Yes, I knew, and Mary Hubbard, and — and — 
Jo Guilford helped Pegs cash the money order be- 
cause the postmaster knew her.’’ 

“Well? — If you have anything to say, it is better 
to tell me than to keep a suspicion to yourselves which 
might be unfounded.’’ 

“There was a handkerchief I found on the piazza 
roof next morning,” went on Pegs, “and it had a name 
on it.” 

“Is that all? — Might not the handkerchief have 
floated out or have been blown down?” 

“Yes,” persisted Spice, “but the whole row of co- 
incidences — ” 

“What are they?” 

“The girl we suspect knew all about the money 
and — and — she is not so very well off. And right 
after that she has bought herself clothes and things 
she really can’t afford.” 


78 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Miss Cooke readjusted the spectacles on the bridge 
of her nose. “What — was the name on the handker- 
chief?” 

There was a dead silence. Only Sarah, who had 
given up her study and let her Geometry lie idle in 
her lap, now began to turn pages. 

“What was the name?” 

“Josephine Guilford.” 

For a few moments nobody spoke. Then Miss 
Cooke broke the silence, smiling a peaked smile which 
had a glint of anger in it : 

“I expected you to say that, after your preface. 
Josephine Guilford works from morning till night. 
If you girls worked as hard as she does, instead of 
just spending your fathers’ money, you’d know the 
value of it.” She arose to go. 

“But — but — Miss Cooke,” broke in Pegs, very much 
agitated. 

“I will ask you to please keep this whole thing to 
yourselves. Do not let any of the others know.” 

“But — but — Miss Cooke,” cried Pegs, “I — I don’t 
think it was Jo who did it !” 

Miss Cooke paused with her hand on the knob of 
the door. 

“What makes you think it wasn’t?” 

“Why — there was a piece of chewing-gum in the 
corner of the handkerchief — ^and I know Jo Guilford 
never chews.” 

“S-sssss!” Miss Cooke tittered a peculiar kind of 
titter. “You are very funny!” 


• CHAPTER VIII 


“flu” sprites and others 

Mary Hubbard was never cut out to be famous, and 
if somebody had told her that she would be, Mary 
might have jumped to the moon and the other girls 
would have thought the informant insane. But the 
fact still remained — Mary had become famous — for 
Mary was the first person at the college to have the 
“Flu.” 

Next day when the Chapel bell was ringing. Miss 
Cooke went up to see how she was getting on. Spice 
Becker was fussing around, looking for buttons that 
had come off her waist which must be sewed on at 
this eleventh and a half-th hour. Mary was &11 flushed 
and headachy, and didn’t care. 

“Now, I’m sure I had those four buttons on the 
‘chiff,’ ” she complained. “I suppose you brushed 
them off as usual.” 

“I haven’t been near the ‘chiff,’ dear,” drawled a 
weak voice from the rumpled couch. “Maybe they 
are on the floor.” 

“Maybe they are,” and Spice dropped to her knees 
and ducked her head down to look under the chiffonier, 
“Oh, dear, there goes the Chapel bell tolling. I sup- 
pose I must cut Chapel, and they will know I cut. — 
Come.” This to the knock that sounded on the door. — 
“Oh, Miss CocJce!” — She got up, breathless, brush- 
79 


80 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


ing the dust off her skirt, and tucking back loose waves 
of hair from her flushed face. 

“How is little Mary this morning?” asked Miss 
Cooke, going over to the sick girl. 

“Oh, all right, I guess,” said Mary weakly. 

“Which means all wrong. What is the matter? 
Do your bones still ache ? My, and you do have fever ! 
Didn’t you take the cold tablets I left you last night?” 

“I certainly did, four of them, just as you told me 
to.” 

“She certainly was getting up all night,” put in her 
selfish roommate, not thinking that perhaps it might 
have been her own duty to get up and administer 
them. 

“Then I don’t see why your fever hasn’t gone 
down.” Miss Cooke went over to the chiffonier. 
“Here’s the box — I left you eight — why,^ my dear 
child, they are still here ! Eight !” 

“But I did take them, Miss Cooke, I took four of 
them, faithfully.” 

“You took four,’’ burst out Spice. “Where did you 
get them, if not from the box?” 

“Why, no — ^no — let me think — they were just in a 
bunch on the chjffonier.” 

Spice collapsed on the other couch, covering her 
face with her hands. 

“Why, what is the matter?” asked Miss Cooke. 
She did not know whether the sound which Spice 
emitted through her fingers was a sob or a laugh. 
“What is it?” 

“My buttons!” choked Spice. “Mary swallowed 
my buttons!” 


“FLU” SPRITES AND OTHERS 


81 


“What do you mean?” cried the good lady, look- 
ing from one to the other. Light began to dawn on 
Mary. 

“Why, I — I’m sorry,” she stammered. 

“So am I,” said Spice. 

“Will it— will it hurt?” 

It was some time before Miss Cooke could get the 
explanation, and when Spice finally flung out of the 
room for the nine o’clock recitation, her waist front 
pinned up with a series of college pins, she still sat 
in the wicker chair, too overcome to think. 

“Why, I think you had better take some castor oil, 
dear,” she told Mary. “I don’t think then they can 
hurt. You should take a dose of castor oil in any 
case. I will fix it so that you will never notice it. 
And I will telephone for Dr. Woods to come around. 
Oh, yes! Oh, yes! I’m afraid you have the grippe.” 

And Miss Cooke who yet had to look after cer- 
tain water growths for her laboratory, and her 
chickens, and the meals that Effie was getting ready 
for the girls, still found time to ring up the doctor’s 
office and ask her to come over as soon as possible. 

It did not take long for Dr. Woods to diagnose the 
case ; the doctor’s thermometer told her that, the head- 
ache and the aching bones told her, the patient’s atti- 
tude, the growing cough and running of the eyes. 

“I am afraid you have the grippe, my dear,” she 
concluded, dropping the hot wrist she had been hold- 
ing. “I’m afraid you have.” 

“But — but you don’t think I have the ‘Flu,’ ” 
pleaded the girl. “I should die if I did.” 

“That would not be at all necessary,” smiled the 


82 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


doctor over her glasses, “Oh, no, it is not influenza 
at all — just the grippe. But we will have to be care- 
ful just the same. I think you ought to be over at 
the Barton Infirmary, where you can be better taken 
care of.” 

“Oh, dear ! — and — ^and I swallowed four pearl 
buttons.” 

The confession struck Dr. Woods like an avalanche 
of insanity. 

“Swallowed buttons — I don’t understand why.” 

Miss Cooke laughed and explained that Mary had 
no ostrich propensities and Dr, Woods laughed, when 
she heard the story, till the tears came from her eyes 
and she had to wipe her glasses. 

“Well, the castor oil was a wise step. You must 
never take anything. Miss Hubbard, without first look- 
ing at it and at the label.” 

When the girls came home for lunch there was no 
Mary there. Dr. Woods had bundled her up very 
warmly and had her wheeled down to the Infirmary, 
which was close by, at a time when the North Campus 
was quite deserted, during recitations. Only her 
couch, airing, marked her place; only the curtains 
flapping in the chill breeze from the wide open win- 
dows. 

For Dr. Woods was taking no chances. Influenza 
was going through the country-side again, and the 
College authorities must ward it off. She did not say 
that Mary Hubbard had influenza, as she thought it 
best not to. But Rumor, that Latin deity, that flings 
through the country with her head in the clouds and 


“FLU” SPRITES AND OTHERS 


83 


her feet on nothing stable, was going about on the 
Campus telling everybody that Mary Hubbard, that 
queer Freshman, was so sick with the “Flu” that in 
her delirium she had swallowed a dozen buttons off 
her roommate’s waist! 

But the girls at Journey’s End lost no sleep over 
Mary. Only Jo Guilford went over twice to inquire 
at the Infirmary. The news that she brought over to 
Miss Cooke was that the Freshman had a very high 
fever, but she was being put under a process of 
“sweating” and should be better to-morrow. 

Jo Guilford was pretty much by herself these days. 
She began to feel a certain insidious chilliness creep- 
ing between herself and the rest of the girls. She 
knew not how to account for it, but it was there. Was 
it because she was a Sophomore? Doubtless that had 
started it. Was it because she was working her way 
through College? It was not that, either. For the 
friendliness that had begun to come when they had 
realized that a girl who works for her college educa- 
tion is as good as one who doesn’t, and that, after 
all, class distinction was nonsense, had all thinned 
out again to unresponsive offishness. 

So she went about her work silently, or when she 
found time, took solitary tramps over the now hard- 
ened roads, away out where the mountains lay barren 
under a sullen November sky and the fields were 
seared by the frost. Only the gray sky overhead, 
hard ground underneath, and God. No pestering or 
annoying spirits — it was good to be alone I 

The girls had been warned by Miss Cooke not to 


84 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


tell of the loss of Pegs’ money to the others, but al- 
though Pegs generally kept silent, Spice, true to 
her name and fame, had managed to spread the tale 
pretty well. 

Even Louise Gaylord had been tainted, for one night 
after ten, when Pegs, sore at heart with the complica- 
tions, crept to her room for advice, she found Louise 
rather cold on the subject. 

“But, Lou,” whispered Pegs, “this is an awful thing 
to accuse a girl of without proper evidence — just be- 
cause a catty person believes it and insists — and it’s 
a terrible thing to have on my soul. I don’t believe 
Jo ever did it!” 

“I don’t know,” said Lou uncertainly. “Spice 
seems very certain.” 

“What does she know, the little cat? She simply 
lives next door to me ! — I think I shall go and see Jo 
Guilford and tell her what I believe.” 

“I should do nothing of the sort 1 Nobody has told 
her anything now ; she doesn’t know. And you know 
Miss Cooke told you to say nothing to anybody about 
it. Let sleeping dogs lie.” 

“I know, Lou, but everybody else knows except Jo, 
who is most interested. Pm going to tell her — ” 

“Let well enough alone,” said Lou decidedly. 

And Pegs, being only a Freshman, with a ticklish 
subject on her hands, took Senior advice and remained 
silent. 

Jo now was quite certain of the chilliness between 
her and the girls. But what was the cause of it? 

One day she found out. She was in the pantry al- 
cove, which communicated with the dining room by a 


“FLU” SPRITES AND OTHERS 


85 


set of china shelves, whepe glass windows on one side 
and hardwood doors on the other divided the dining 
room from the kitchen. It was eleven o’clock, and 
Jo had no recitations that period. She was putting 
ajvay some cups and saucers she had been drying, 
when, as she opened the hardwood doors, voices in the 
dining rocra reached her ear. 

“I should think she would be ashamed to put on 
such a bold front.” It was Spice. “I would not have 
Jo Guilford in the house, if I were Miss Cooke.” 

Her heart went to her throat ! What was it ? Her 
forehead broke into a cold perspiration. She scorned 
to be an eavesdropper, but^this meant much, to her. 

“She certainly took it. A hundred dollars means 
a good deal to a girl like that, I suppose.” 

Jo almost dropped the cup she had held poised to 
listen. She remembered now. She had heard some- 
thing about something being stolen and now she knew 
what it was and that she was suspected. Suspected! 

“What is it, dear,” came the soft voice of Effie be- 
hind her. “You look so upset. What has happened ?” 

For, through it all, Effie, the cook, had always been 
a steadfast friend and admirer. From her she was 
always sure cff sympathy. 

“Oh, Effie!” wept Jo, her cold reserve breaking 
down completely. “Oh, Effie !” But she only put her 
arms around the woman’s neck and wept on her 
shoulder. 

“Can’t I do something?” asked Effie. “Tell me 
what’s the matter.” And she led the girl to a chair 
near the window. 

“No, Effie — not now. I have to think first. It’s 


86 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


too terrible. I — I must go up and lie down. Can 
you take care of the lunch alone?’' 

And she went to her little bedroom under the 
eaves, and threw herself on her couch. She heard 
the dinner bell ring for luncheon, and the girls troop- 
ing down. She heard the clock on Founder’s Hall 
strike two, and heard faintly the electric bells in Science 
Hall call for the first recitation. She was due at the 
Chemistry laboratory that afternoon. But for once 
the work would have to go on without her. 

Suspected ! She suspected ! All afternoon that word 
rankled in her heart. What must she do? Should 
she not go to Pegs and deny it ? Of what good denial ? 
Besides, Pegs had seemed especially uncomfortable 
when Jo was around and had shifted her gaze when 
their eyes met. She thought of going to Louise Gay- 
lord, the Senior-opposite. But she remembered now 
that she had seen her whispered to in corners, or in 
the depths of her darkened room after lo o’clock. 
Oh, the bitterness of it all! 

She would go to Miss Cooke. Sh^ would cer- 
tainly believe her. 

A knock came from the door. Jo was too dazed 
at first to respond, or even to realize that there had 
been a knock. But, as it was repeated, she came con- 
fusedly to her feet, brushed back her rumpled hair, 
and went to the door. 

It was Miss Cooke. 

“I just thought I’d come up and see the girl,” she 
said. “Effie told me you weren’t feeling well.” 

Effie, faithful Effie, always mindful of her welfare ! 

“Oh, I was just a little upset. Miss Cooke,” said 


“FLU” SPRITES AND OTHERS 


87 


the girl, embarrassed. “Something — something hap- 
pened — ” She could not keep back the tears. 

“Come over to your couch, dear. There, sit down 
next to me — now tell me.” 

And in that motherly embrace, the story, as much 
as she knew of it, came out. 

“You know — ^you‘ know, Miss Cooke, I never did 
it!” 

“Of course I know you didn’t,” and Miss Cooke 
kissed the flushed, tear-wet face, and pushed back the 
wet, draggled hair. “I would not let it trouble me for 
a minute.” 

“But they say I did. I can’t face them and have 
them keep on thinking it!” 

“No, something must be done — ^but I must think.” 

“It will be hard to prove the negative,” put in Jo, 
wiping her eyes and beginning to look at the thing 
practically and judicially. “I can’t just say I didn’t 
do it and expect them to believe it. — They can come 
up here and search if they like.” 

“They shall do no such thing,” exclaimed Miss 
Cooke. “It is absurd! I believe irumy girl — only — 
we will have to wait, perhaps. Something will surely 
turn up and prove they were wrong. Just don’t 
worry. Only don’t let them see that you know. 
Come, dear, just wash yourself and go and take a 
good walk. There’s an hour yet before dark, and 
Rags is crazy to take a walk with you. Don’t think 
anything more about it. I’ll do something.” 

Poor Jo! Her heart was burned to the sear, so 
that a numbness took possession of it. Her soul was 
so torn, that it no longer had any feeling. She did 


88 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


not want to see the girls again — she certainly could 
not face them to-night. She only wanted the power 
to think — to think clearly and soberly. 

Jo did not go down to dinner that night, but crept 
out the back way when all were eating and chattering. 
She walked, walked — where, she neither knew nor 
cared. Her Guardian Angel was guiding her feet — 
down by the plant houses, across the brook, where the 
water rushed over the little dam, up, up the winding 
road to the top of Green view Hill. The chill breeze 
fanned her face, but her heart was chillier; the lights 
from the dormitories glowed upon the night and rip- 
pled with the waters of the Lake. In the houses, she 
knew, they were chattering and happy. They had no 
problems, no aches, no heart burns. But what to do 
she could not think — could not think! 

After a while, she found herself down again — ^how 
long it was, she did not know. She was going up the 
hilly path to the left of Pageant Field, between the 
double row of now bare trees. Across from Found- 
er’s Hall she heard the sound of the organ and in- 
stinctively her feet went toward it. 

Who was playing at this hour? It was the young 
assistant organist, practicing for a recital. There was 
something familiar in the strains, but something in- 
tangible. He was playing from “Freischutz” of Ober. 
That little hymn-like section was pouring out of the 
opened windows in back of the Chapel and singing 
upon the still, lamp-lighted, empty Campus. He was 
playing from “Freischutz,” but she heard only a fa- 
miliar little hymn ; the words it brought were the mes- 
sage her soul had been seeking: 


“FLU” SPRITES AND OTHERS 


89 


“My Jesus, as Thou wilt, 

Oh, may Thy will be minel 
Into Thy hand of life 
I would my all resign. 

Through sorrow or through joy 
Conduct me as Thine own. 

And hejp me still to say, 

‘My Lord, Thy will be done !’ ” 

That sigh was the pent-up bitterness going out of 
her. Her heart was strangely free, for she had re- 
ceived a message of patience. She would wait, yes, 
and suffer, if it had to be — even as He had suffered. 

Miss Cooke was true to her word. The next Satur- 
day night Effie and Jo were washing the dinner dishes 
and the girls with Miss Cooke were gathered around 
the fireplace in the hall. It was the weekly prayer 
meeting and Sarah Thayer was leading it. Her sub- 
ject was “Kindness.” She was nervous through the 
hymn, more so at the chapter of the New Testament 
which she read, and her voice fairly faltered when she 
came to her little sermon. 

It was aboht the kindness we owe to others around 
us and so often forget — the "kindness we might do but 
omit — the kindness which every one of us at some time 
needs — the kindness which even Christ needed at the 
end, the comfort of a friend. 

Through the breathless pause that followed Miss 
Cooke spoke in a soft voice. 

“Sarah is right,” she said, stroking the fond yellow 
Angora that had insisted upon getting into her lap and 
making himself part of the meeting. “Sarah is right. 
We too often forget — we too often jump at conclu- 
sions, where, if we allowed in just a little bit of Chris- 


90 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


tian Spirit — we would see our way — so clearly, by its 
light. We might use a little kindness now.” — The big 
Angora raised his eyes and gazed lovingly into her 
face. “There is a matter of which I asked some of 
you not to speak — in this house^ — it is about a certain 
girl. Some of you had jumped at conclusions — I am 
sure very wrongly. I had asked you to wait and keep 
it to yourselves. But it is no longer a secret. And I 
don’t know how much farther it has gone. But the 
mischief has been done. Now you all know what I 
mean. But I want to tell you that the thing you im- 
pute to Josephine is absolutely unfounded. You know 
it is, don’t you ?” 

There was silence, their troubled eyes gazed into the 
fire, where a few sticks of apple boughs were burning 
fitfully. 

“At any rate, I beg of you, even as the dear mother 
of each of you at home might, never to speak of it 
among yourselves again. You have done a grave 
wrong — almost irreparable. One day it will be proved 
to you. Your dear mothers would be heartbroken. — 
You will be going home for Thanksgiving, next week, 
those of you that live near, and I want you to be able 
to look at your mothers with a clear conscience. Wait 
— the thing will be proved to you. And God’s ways 
are many.” 

The silence that followed was broken only by the 
crackling of the fire, and the measured ringing of the 
bell on Founder’s Hall, striking eight o’clock. 

“Let us all sing for closing,” Miss Cooke broke the 
silence, “that old, old hymn you all know — ‘One 
sweetly solemn thought.’ ” 


“FLU” SPRITES AND OTHERS 


91 


And one by one they found their voices and joined 
furtively in the old revival tune : 

“One sweetly solemn thought 
Comes to me o'er and o'er, 

I'm one day nearer home to-day 
Than e'er I’ve been before." 

And little by little a double meaning of it came to 
this homesick, sentimental little group, waiting for 
their first homecoming, and they smiled through their 
gathering tears. 

“Nearer my Father's house 
Where stately mansions be, 

Nearer to-day the great white throne, 

Nearer the crystal sea." 


CHAPTER IX 


QUARANTINED 

What the College authorities feared had happened. 
They were not in favor of the girls’ going home for 
Thanksgiving, because of the increasing danger of in- 
fluenza ; but the public sentiment amongst the students 
clamored for the traditional two-day home-going, and 
the College Faculty had to give in — with reservations. 
All students wishing to go home had to report to the 
Faculty head of the house in which they lived, to be 
cross-examined most rigidly, first, as to whether they 
showed any signs of influenza, second, as to whether 
any one at home had a cold or a sniff, or their neigh- 
bor or their neighbor’s dog. If there was an honest, 
cross-your-heart negative, the students received per- 
mission to go — with cautions and admonitions. 

Dr. Woods also made a set of “Do’s and Don’ts’’ 
for the home-goers to follow implicitly, which Presi- 
dent Hartley read in Chapel that Tuesday morning 
before the exodus. Even with such careful discrim- 
ination, nearly two-thirds of the college drifted away 
to the railroad station as soon as their recitations were 
over, leaving the rest to enjoy Thanksgiving at Col- 
lege. And they did ! 

On Thanksgiving Day, Mary Hubbard who had now 
been in the hospital three weeks was allowed to go back 
to Miss Cooke’s where her mother and father had come 
92 


QUARANTINED 


93 


to spend Thanksgiving with her. Sarah Thayer had 
stayed, Jo Guilford and five other girls. 

And such a dinner! — ^Turkey stuffed to bursting 
with raisins and chestnuts, dumplings, potatoes, vege- 
tables, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, hot biscuit — with 
a march around the dining room to make room for 
more — ice cream, with caramel sauce, marshmallow 
layer cake, coffee, nuts, raisins, candy — what did we 
omit ? It was a dinner that could have put Tiny Tim’s 
to the blush. 

Then a big log fire in the foyer, and talk, and conun- 
drums, and songs, and popping corn and more raisins 
to fill any possible crevices. Mr. Hubbard was 
especially good at telling sea tales and stories of ad- 
venture — ^he had lived in many of the world’s odd 
comers — and Mrs. Hubbard seemed to share with the 
girls in listening again to her husband’s past adven- 
tures. He was jolly and rolicking, and seemed to have 
a bit of the sea’s boisterousness ; she was quiet and con- 
tained and efficient and mild. How came Mary to be 
their daughter, wondered the girls. Still Mary did 
have a talent for Latin and Greek and other languages. 
Perhaps she, too, would be a genius some day! For 
the father’s name was not unknown in the world of 
letters. 

Each house of the College celebrated in its own way, 
and afterwards, in the late afternoon, there was an 
organ recital in the Chapel, with the lights turned low, 
and at the organ that idol of the entire College, Pro- 
fessor Howard. “Largo” — “Traumerei” — The “Pil- 
grims’ Choms” from Tannhauser. How the organ 
responded to his slightest touch and how marvelously 


94 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


it gave forth the message. It sang through celestial 
heights, wailed with the outcast spirits of the nether- 
most round of hell ; it fluttered with the breeze, howled 
with the wrack and thundered with the anger of God ! 
And when the storm had spent itself, came peace, and 
thanksgiving, and hope for the morrow. 

Friday the girls came back, straggling in to their 
recitation halls, back to the workaday world, most of 
them in time for the turkey-hash-on-toast — all that re- 
mained to reflect the glories of the day before. 

The reunions at Journey’s End were characteristic. 

“Oh, Thara — Yoo-hoo!” from the path crossing the 
street to the house, and then a tramping up the piazza 
steps, a none too gentle banging of the front door, a 
stumbling up the stairs and Pegs burst into her room, 
flinging her bag on the couch and herself into her 
roommate’s arms. 

“Well ! — I’ve had the bulliest time !” 

“So did we — even though we couldn’t go home.’’ 

“Oh, did you? Tell me what you did — Did you 
miss your ’ittle roomy?” and so forth, smothered into 
a hug. 

“And what do you think,” said Thara after a while, 
“Mary Hubbard’s back, and her father and mother 
were here — perfectly lovely father — I’m mad about 
him!” 

“Is she all well ?” 

“Yes, doctor says she is all right and perfectly safe 
to associate with.” 

“Well, we’re lucky, Sarah, to be so away from 
everybody. Why, you have no idea of the amount of 
‘Flu’ around at home I” 


QUARANTINED 


95 


“Hush! Speak lightly and knock on wood. Dr. 
Woods is awfully upset and just waiting with fingers 
crossed. I was in her office this morning before 
luncheon, and she is worn to a frazzle. She said she 
had had three calls since the girls began to come back 
at nine o’clock and they were all ‘Flu.’ ” 

“Oh, hello! Why, here’s Mary! Hello, Spice!” 

“Oh, we’re up and about again,” said Spice. “Did 
you just come? I had a nine o’clock recitation; so 
I had to be here early. Just my luck.” 

“Did you have a good time. Pegs? You did, didn’t 
you?” asked Mary. 

“Oh, bully! — How did you like the Infirmary?” 

“Fine ! Didn’t have to study. And you girls were 
so lovely to send me that cyclamen. I’ve brought it 
home with me to my. room. And that monkey-on-a- 
stick ! Where in the world did you get that ?” 

“That was Pegs’ idea,” said Thara, “to keep you 
entertained.” 

“Well, that was my sole-own companion when I was 
too sick to see anything but the square of light from 
the window.” 

“The monkey made you feel at home, like, didn’t 
it ?” put in Spice. 

“I’d hardly suggest that to my roommate. Spice,” 
shot Pegs subtly, with a laugh. 

“You think you’re smart, don’t you. Miss Funny?” 
pouted Spice. 

“Well, one must live up to one’s surroundings. — 
Oh !” with a start. “What was that ? — Oh, of course. 
Julia’s sneeze.” 

For Julia Talbot had a peculiar sneeze, something 


96 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


between a start and a scream, as if she had swallowed 
a tooth or something, that made a person jump, and 
realize a second later that it was a sneeze. In a few 
minutes the sneeze came again ; this time more 
emphatically. 

“Oh, hullo, Julia,” said Pegs, putting her head out 
of the door. “Don’t you know sneezing is ‘verboten’ ? 
Hope you’re really not getting the ‘Flu.’ ” 

“I don’t know — ka-CHOO!” said Julia, who was 
coming up the stairs. “Better keep away from me, 
anyhow.” She held her handkerchief in front of her 
nose. “There’s no knowing — ka-CHOO !” 

“No, there isn’t,” nodded Pegs, sympathetically, go- 
ing inside. “Your nose knows, though.” 

But when they trooped down to luncheon a little 
later, Julia was missing, and so v^as her roommate. 

“Julia is here,” explained Pegs to Miss Cooke, “but 
I don’t know if Fanny has come. Julia was sneezing 
— most unusually — not her usual sneeze, I mean. Do 
you suppose she has the ‘Flu’?” 

“We will see in a little while,” said Miss Cooke, 
looking very thoughtful as she began to serve the cold 
meat. “I will go up in a few minutes. And, girls, 
it will be just as well if none of you go to their room 
just now.” 

After she had served all the girls and eaten a little, 
Miss Cooke excused herself and left the dining 
room, followed by the anxious glances of those at the 
table. 

There was a subdued silence. 

“I hope,” said the Senior-opposite, “that it isn’t a 
case of influenza.” ' 


QUARANTINED 97 

“Oh, I hope not,” ’plained Mary, “else I’d feel as if 
I’d given it to her.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, Mary,” said Pegs, “if Julia has 
the ‘Flu’ she couldn’t have gotten it from you anyway ? 
She probably got it going home over Thanksgiving.” 

“Well, I hope you won’t give it to me,” said Spice. 
“You give me the shivers the way you talk in your 
sleep at night, and I think that’s enough for my share.” 

“Hush, Spice,” said Thara. “The ‘Flu’ is nothing 
to joke about just now.” 

Miss Cooke was still upstairs on the top floor when 
the girls left the table and when they went to classes 
for the afternoon. Those who occupied rooms on the 
same floor reported that the door of the front room 
was closed and that they could hear Miss Cooke walk- 
ing about and saying something now and then. That 
was all. 

. When they returned at four-thirty, however, they 
found that what they had dreaded was an actuality. 
Dr. Woods had been there: the two girls had in- 
fluenza. They were not to go to the Infirmary, as that 
had already five new cases that day, and the remaining 
rooms were to be held open for any serious cases that 
might come up. At present the girls of the top floor 
front were to be quarantined from the rest of the 
house and Miss Cooke and Effie would look after them. 

When the girls returned from the post office with 
their mail an hour later, those groups sauntering across 
the Campus in the dusk were alive with excitement. 
All sorts of rumors had been whispered about and 
scraps of news were magnified as they passed from 
mouth to mouth. 


98 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“They say we are to be shut off from everything. 
We can’t go to the City — not even to the village 
store !” 

“Wow, there go our sodas,” said Pegs. 

“Anyway, it’s too cold for sodas!” from Thara. 

“Is that so. Miss Pollyanna? We still might enjoy 
an occasional hot chocolate, after we come from a long 
walk — ^and candy — and cookies.” 

“Well, it will keep you from spending your money 
too rashly.” 

“Thanks. That’s thoughtful of you. — I have an 
idea! We’ll signal across the road to Mr. Streeter, 
using the deaf and dumb language — I wonder if he’s 
up on deaf and dumb? — and we can send Rags over 
with a basket tied to his neck.” 

“You’re an irrepressible young ’un. Pegs. You’d 
throw away your money with your hands tied.” 

Pegs laughed. What was money for? Too, there 
seemed to be a limitless amount back home. Who’d 
ever have to stop to think so Idng as there was Father? 

“What interests me,” she went on, “is how we are 
to go to recitations ? Shall we wear masks ?” 

“No such luck,” said Spice. “The Faculty 
would be too afraid they mightn’t know which one was 
reciting.” They were stumbling up the steps by now. 
“But that has possibilities. If I thought I might flunk, 
I could pantomime to you, and you would do the 
answering for me from behind the mask. Wouldn’t 
we get Frenchie’s goat!” 

“Suppose three voices started up to answer at once,” 
suggested Thara. 

“No danger of that, Thara dear, where you and the 


QUARANTINED 


99 


rest of us are concerned. You might have to do the 
answering for the bunch while the rest practiced 
silence.” 

“What would interest me more,” said Spice, as they 
stopped in front of her door, “is, aren’t any of the 
Faculty going to oblige us by having the ‘Flu’ them- 
selves. I could do without a little Math for a while.” 

“You’re a brute. But maybe they will, if we sit 
with thumbs down,” from Pegs. 

The influenza regulations were not so rigorous as 
they had anticipated. Only eleven students and one 
Faculty member had it so far and they were promptly 
isolated. The services of two extra nurses were ob- 
tained from the City and these were to visit the patients 
from time to time, while serious cases were to be taken 
at once to the Infirmary for constant treatment. The 
regulations called for an immediate report to the resi- 
dent physician and prompt isolation of any one de- 
veloping a cough, cold or sneeze. Chapel would con- 
tinue just the same, except for those persons. (Oh, 
how many fictitious “cuts” there could be!) Recita- 
tions would continue as usual. Students would not on 
any consideration be allowed to go to the City or enter 
a street car, save on special permission. The village 
store was not quarantined against as yet — glory be! 

Next morning the breakfast bell did not ring on 
time, nor twenty minutes of the time, nor yet half an 
hour. Those tired beings who promised themselves 
ten minutes more sleep had a chance to turn over a 
good many times. It was nearly eight o’clock when 
a few early birds, all dressed, ventured forth to see — 
Spice Becker amongst them. 


100 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Is your clock slow ?” she asked, putting her head in 
the kitchen door, backed by Thara. 

“No,” it was Jo Guilford in a long apron, pulling 
out a hot pan of muffins from the oven. “Effie is sick, 
so I am cook this morning. You will have to do with- 
out your hot cereal, though. Corn flakes or puffed 
rice — and jelly with your muffins — and coffee and 
some bacon. Ring the breakfast bell, please.” 

When the Freshmen straggled in, with inquiry on 
their faces, Jo, still in her long white apron, was 
putting the coffee and muffins and bacon on the table, 
and Miss Cooke was coming in from her room, hook- 
ing up the last hook-and-eye on her dress. 

“Effie is sick,” Miss Cooke announced, “and Jose- 
phine has been so good as to prepare some breakfast 
at a moment’s notice. I’m sorry for this rather make- 
shift breakfast, with no reflections on Josephine, but 
I’ve telephoned to Hampden Falls and hope to have a 
cook by noon. You see, even Ham forsook us this 
morning, and we have had to feed our own chickens. 
His father telephoned in that Ham had the ‘Flu.’ ” 

“How perfectly ghastly,” commented Spice, “and 
you will have to feed your own chickens?” 

“I can’t let them starve,” laughed Miss Cooke. “At 
any rate, until I can get some one in. Old Mr. Dayton 
may come in, but his back has many aches and his legs 
are none too steady.” 

“That’s too bad,” said Pegs. “Let me help with 
them. Miss Cooke. I’d love to.” 

“So should I,” volunteered Mary Hubbard. 

“No, Mary,” said Miss Cooke. “I think you’ll have 
all you can do catching up with your back work. — i 


QUARANTINED 


101 


Thank you, Margaret. I may call on you to climb up 
after eggs. Old Mr. Dayton and I will manage the 
rest. — ^There’s one thing I want to ask of you girls, 
though. Do please be very careful and don’t catch 
cold. Be sure to wear hats or caps. It is too risky to 
go without. Do not go near anybody with a cold and 
if you feel the least bit ill, let me know at once. There 
goes the Chapel bellj Is it as late as that?/’ 


CHAPTER X 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 

“Well, of all things !” 

Pegs went to Spice Becker’s room that evening at 
the urgent solicitation of Mary Hubbard. 

“What is the matter, Spice ?” 

“Don’t bother me,” said Spice, turning over on her 
couch, her face to the wall. “That idiot had to go 
and get you, didn’t she? Roommates are a nuisance, 
and especially Mary’s kind.” 

Mary stood abashed and embarrassed. 

“What did I do. Pegs ?” she whispered. 

“Nothing. Don’t say a word. — Spice, dear, do you 
-feel sick?” 

“No, I’m tired ! I just want to be left alone ! Who 
wouldn’t be tired after such a day as we had? 
Nothing for breakfast — big hunks of cold ham for 
lunch and gobs of Freshmen’s tears — ^and the dinner 
to-night !” 

“You know Miss Cooke is doing the best she can 
while Effie is sick. We’re not exactly starving, any- 
way.” Pegs smiled at the memory of the “gobs” 
served to them. “The cook she got just happens to be 
used to cooking for gangs of men down at the paper 
mills, instead of for delicate ladies like us.” 

“I wish you’d both go away,” cried Spice, readj 
102 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


103 


tears spilling from her eyes and soaking into a many- 
colored pillow. 

Spice was completely broken down and wept like a 
child. Pegs knew the signs and so did Mary, now. 

“Has she the ‘Flu’ ?’’ whispered Mary. 

“Don’t know, child. Go for Miss Cooke.” 

That very much distressed lady was combing the 
silky golden hair of Buff, as a few moments’ respite 
and solace, when Mary burst in upon her. 

“Cicely Becker sick? — Why, she was all right this 
morning.” 

“Yes, but I guess it just comes suddenly,” suggested 
Mary. 

“Well !” she exclaimed, and, depositing the big An- 
gora in a nice soft hollow on her bed, she brushed his 
yellow hair from her dress and followed. 

Miss Cooke, who could head a College department 
and raise prize chickens at the same time, to say 
nothing of twenty Freshmen, who could climb up 
Mount Shasta for specimens, who went on strenuous 
tramps up the mountains of Norway for her vacation. 
Miss Cooke was not to be outdone by the sick, pettish 
Spice Becker. She sent Pegs to telephone for Dr. 
Woods and then sent both her and Mary away. Spice, 
who was now trembling like a leaf from chills, allowed 
herself to be undressed and put to bed. 

“I suppose I shall be quarantined now,” said Spice 
peevishly, when Dr. Woods had come and delivered 
her verdict. 

“Without a doubt,” said Dr. Woods, taking some 
tablets out of her case. “This makes four you have 
now, Miss Cooke? — I don’t know what we shall do if 


104 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


the number increases. I’ve sent several wires out, but 
managed to get just two extra nurses. However, the 
number is still small, I am happy to say, and with a 
little help from the people in the houses, I think we’ll 
manage to pull through.” 

“I think you don’t need to worry about us. Dr. 
Woods. I am taking care of Effie in her own room 
next to mine, myself. But why can’t we move Miss 
Becker in the upstairs front room with the other two 
girls? We can put her couch up there to-morrow — 
there is plenty of room. Josephine Guilford’s room 
opens right into the front room. She is taking care 
of the two girls and she can take care of more just as 
well.” 

“Let us hope there won’t be many more,” said the 
doctor. “Your suggestion is good, only do take care 
of Miss Guilford.” 

“She is a very present help in time of trouble,” said 
Miss Cooke. “I don’t know what I would have done 
without her to-day.” 

“Do you expect Jo Guilford to look after me?" 
asked Spice Becker. “Well, she doesn’t need to. I 
can take care of myself.” 

Dr. Woods laughed. “Don’t be too sure of that.” 

And Dr. Woods was right. 

For the next day Spice was too sick to raise even 
her head, much less any objections. Miss Cooke 
bundled her up closely, and one of the College em- 
ployees took her up carefully in his arms to the floor 
above. Pegs, who had the temerity to watch the ar- 
rangements at close quarters, in spite of orders to keep 
away, waved at the departing patient, all the while 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


105 


wondering how the man could manage it — with Spice’s 
large bulk. But then, thought she, men have their 
uses and sometimes they have more strength than you 
give them credit for. 

Mary, who had slept in Pegs’ room the night before, 
insisted on staying with Pegs and Thara as long as 
they could stand her. For she would not sleep alone. 
The two couches. Pegs’ and Thara’s, had been put to- 
gether, and Mary slept “on the crack.” Slept, that is, 
when they at last stopped talking and giggling. But 
finally, when Pegs and Thara had turned over a few 
times, and Mary had run away from three or four 
burglars, the “crack” suddenly widened, and Pegs 
awoke with a start to catch the last of Mary as she dis- 
appeared down the intervening chasm. 

“What is it? What is it?” cried Pegs, pulling in- 
stinctively at Mary’s leg. 

“Oh-h-h !” a squeal from Mary. “Let go ! Let me 
go !” And she kicked a regular pinwheel. 

“Oh — why, of course — Mary!” and Pegs giggled 
aloud and “let go.” 

Thara awoke by this time, and giggled, too, when 
she had gained her senses, while Mary, having now 
touched bottom and realized where she was and what 
it was all about, began to come to the surface, with- 
out any assistance from the other two who were laugh- 
ing themselves into tears. 

“You mean things,” she complained, “to let me 
down like that I” 

“I am sorry, dear, for our scant hospitality,” apolo- 
gized Pegs. “One can’t account for oneself when one 
is asleep. Now, do climb out and we’ll put the couches 


106 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


together again, spank up against the wall. I think 
chairs will keep the mattress from sliding on the other 
side.” 

And Mary Hubbard was supremely happy. 

Two days later another patient went to join the 
group in the top floor front and to add to Jo’s care. 
But Jo, methodical mind that she was, managed to 
make the medicine hours of all of them coincide, so 
that she would have to get up only once every two 
or three hours. She set her alarm clock, too, to go off 
at these hours, letting it emit a most subdued ring 
under her woolen muffler on the wash stand. Hard 
on the patients? Not at all. They would all have to 
be awake, anyway, and they might as well be good and 
awake to know what was expected of them. Regular 
hospital training in a sense, but not of the sort the sick 
usually look for. 

One of the visiting nurses came round at regular 
intervals during the day and Miss Cooke persuaded one 
of the neighbors to bring in her knitting and stay with 
the girls during the long afternoon. They heard all 
the town gossip. 

There were now twenty-nine cases of influenza at 
College, two of which had turned into pneumonia. 
These cases were being most tenderly cared for at the 
Infirmary, for their friends felt very grave when they 
thought of Ruth Dicks and Lou Crawford. Their 
friends made a point of questioning one of the white- 
gowned nurses at the door of the Infirmary every day, 
and spreading the news around the dining room of 
their dormitory at meals. 

Otherwise, except for wincing when they heard of 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


107 


others of their number being added to the sick list, the 
College in general made quite merry over the “Flu” 
and its discomforts. 

“Not to be sneezed at,” became the slogan. 

One day in the Freshman Latin Class, they came to 
a passage of Livy in which the ancient gentleman was 
starting the Romans on a great expedition. 

“ ‘One sneezed,’ ” was translated. 

“ ‘One sneezed,’ ” said Professor Earl, who herself 
could not suppress the smile that went contagiously 
about the room. “Miss Whiting, what is the signifi- 
cance of a sneeze among the ancients?” 

Pegs, who had had a far-away expression on her 
face that made one suspect that the smile was for some 
distant scene or incident, jumped when she heard her 
name called. 

“I beg pardon ?” 

“What,” repeated Dr. Earl, still smiling, encourag- 
ingly, “was sneezing the sign of among the ancients ?” 

“It — it — ” Pegs cast vainly about. She must 
strive to catch that something that eluded her. “Why, 
really, it’s a bad sign — one of the first symptoms of 
influenza.” 

The class “let out one whoop,” as Mary Hubbard 
put it later, much to Pegs’ discomfiture. Even Dr. 
Earl, massive and dignified, as some Roman of old of 
whom she was always reading and telling, smiled, for 
dignity does not always mean a corresponding lack of 
humor. 

“That is a rather too modern interpretation. I 
think. Miss Whiting, it will perhaps be worth your 
while to investigate the question.” 


108 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Whereupon it might have been noticed — ^perhaps it 
is just as fortunate that it wasn’t — that the pencil of 
Sarah Thayer was busy during the rest of the recita- 
tion, although she carefully hid the scraps of paper, 
the results of her unwonted activities, between the 
pages of her Livy. It was Mary who discovered them 
that night when they were “doing” their Latin to- 
gether, Thara having gotten up to get some cookies 
from the bookcase, and left the book to Mary. 

“What do I see !” exclaimed Mary. 

“What do you see ?” cried Pegs, snatching the sheets 
from her. “‘Jupiter Fluvius!’ — ‘Jupiter Fluvius?’ — 
Translate, Thara. That means ‘Rainy Jupiter,’ does it 
not ? Why ‘rainy’ ?” 

“No, it doesn’t,” said Thara, making several ineffec- 
tual grabs after her manuscript. “It means ‘Sneezing 
Jupiter.’ ” 

“Ye gods! In not too polite society I have heard 
of ‘Sneezing Jehoshaphat,’ but never, never ‘Sneezing 
Jupiter,’ ” said Pegs gayly. 

“We are not unaware of that, my child,” said Thara 
pointedly. 

“Oh, hush, let me read these inspired words,” cried 
Mary. “Thara dear, I must see to it that we do not 
let your light hide under a bushel ! Here goes ! 

“Jupiter Fluvius 
“An Horatian Ode 

“Jove sneezes — now all the world is full of blooms 
Called forth to life by that propitious sneeze. 

Jove sneezes — nay, but the world rejoiced not — 

For well we know, and well believe — Jove hath the Flu, 
And we rejoice that those celestial heights 
Separate us. 


LIGHTS AND SHADOWS 


109 


Flee, gods, flee, of that immortal household. 

Pandora's box is not so full 
As Jove's immediate atmosphere — 

Mean, miserly, microscopic germs! 

For yet anon, all of ye will sneeze. 

O ye Olympian pages, put ye Jove 
To bed, give him a draught, deep. 

Of unprohibited celestial nectar. 

And to his immortal feet 
A hot-water bag. Make the Eternal One 
Sweat with the Hadean heat 
Until the evil is out of him 
And Flu awayl" 

“Oh, Thara, Thara, you marvel !” cried Pegs, hug- 
ging her roommate. “Were it not that I appreciate 
thy genius I would shake thee until thy bones rattled. 
That 'Flu away’ is expressive of thy soul. — But wait. 
I will get even with you yet.” 

And next day, a copy of the Ode, made in the dead 
of night under the dim light in the hall, found itself 
in the letter box of the Hampden College News, was 
hurried down to the printer just as he was making 
ready for press, and after much pleading and cajoling, 
appeared the day after in the College paper, fully and 
properly signed, for all to read. Prefixed to it was 
the incident of the “Sneeze” (which Pegs did not sub- 
mit) — and Pegs, too, received her full meed of credit! 
At the end was added this editorial comment : “When 
the silly, curious Pandora let out this mess of Flu 
germs upon the world, she managed to shut the lid 
down and retain one germ in her casket. It was the 
saving grace. The ancients said it was ‘Hope.’ We 
think it was a sense of HUMOR I” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE DISAPPEARANCE 

It was the week before Christmas. Julia Talbot, 
who on her return from home after Thanksgiving had 
strung up twenty-five peanuts, to be decapitated one 
each day until all were eaten, had six left on the string. 
That was one of the pastimes of the “sick-bay,” when 
they commenced to get over their coughs and aches 
and pains. Effie, downstairs, got over her illness long 
before the others — ^because she had to. She had work 
to do, that a clumsy successor was carrying on very 
badly. It was Jo that furnished the more delicate em- 
bellishments that made meals worth sitting down to. 

Spice Becker was the next to get well, partly be- 
cause she abhorred the dictation of Jo, to whom she 
had taken such an unreasonable dislike. For aches 
were aches and pills and mustard plasters meant get- 
ting well. So she got well quickly, with just a 
wobbly feeling and a general fatigue that would pass 
away only in time. Her peevishness, however, and 
those qualities that were forgiven but not loved by her 
housemates were still quite in evidence. 

One thing that worried her, while she was sick, was 
her worldly possessions left behind on the floor below. 
She felt sure that Mary would let them “walk away” 
and she worried that poor mortal so much about them 
that Mary locked all the drawers of Spice’s chiffonier 
110 


THE DISAPPEARANCE 


111 


and wore the key around her neck all day. Perhaps 
it was her illness that made Spice worry, and the too 
frequent presence of Jo Guilford. 

The first thing that Spice did, therefore, when she 
finally was able, one afternoon, to take her uncertain 
steps to her own floor, with her head still soaring in 
dizzy altitudes, was to make Mary pull out the key 
from the bosom of her blouse and hand it to her, for 
a close inspection of her chiffonier. 

“The table and the chairs are all here,” she com- 
mented, “but you should have slept here nights as I 
wanted you to. I couldn’t possibly have put all of 
my room under my pillow !” 

“Well, I think you are very foolish to put anything 
under your pillow, if I do say so,” remarked Mary. 
“It’s perfectly safe. Still I did the best. Your valu- 
ables got me so upset, I looked into your bureau last 
thing before Chapel and first thing when I came home, 
and last thing at night. And all night long I dreamt 
of burglars. I hope you’ll find everything.” 

Spice was not paying any attention to this lengthy 
recital. She was unlocking chiffonier drawers and 
pulling out one after the other. 

“Where did you put my silver comb and brush?” 
she asked. 

“Top drawer,” answered Mary promptly. “Right 
there. Why, they are not there. There’s the place 
for them. I took special care of them because I was 
in love with them — just.” 

“Well,” said Spice, folding her arms after a further 
search and excavation among ties and neckwear, “will 
you please tell me where they are?” 


112 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“They were there — in that spot — the last time I 
looked.” 

“This morning?” 

“No — no — last night. I knew you were coming 
down to-day. I hope you don’t think I — ” 

“No, of course not. — This is a pretty how-de-do !” 

“Tm sorry. I had the key all the time.” 

“A hundred keys don’t seem to make any difference. 
I said that Miss Cooke ought not to have that Jo Guil- 
ford in the house.” 

“Do you mean — do you mean,” faltered Mary, 
aghast, “that you think she took it?” 

“I don’t mean anything — I don’t know what I mean 
—I—” 

There was a knock and she looked up, startled, to 
find some one at the half-open door — some one whom 
in the fringe of her consciousness she had seen ap- 
proaching down the hall for some time. 

Had she heard? Good heavens, had she? How 
long had she been standing there? For it was Jo 
Guilford, Jo who seemed all red and confused. She 
held out something in her hand. 

“You forgot your pills upstairs,” she said. “Be 
sure to go on taking them regularly.” 

“Thanks,” said Spice curtly, deciding precipitously 
to come to the point. “I have no further need of your 
pills — nor of you.” 

Jo looked her in the eye, steadily, until Spice’s 
eyes shifted. There was confusion on both sides and 
a boding silence, to the great embarrassment and alarm 
of Mary. 

Jo Guilford had never looked like that before. The 


THE DISAPPEARANCE 


113 


cold, seemingly apathetic front was changed to hot 
anger and fury. Her face was flushed, her eyes red. 
She seemed about to speak, but could not find her 
voice. Then suddenly hot tears fell from her eyes. 
She turned without a word and fled, swaying once 
against the wall of the hall as she went up toward her 
room. 

That night, at dinner. Spice Becker got a royal wel- 
come, in which Effie, waiting on the table, joined. 
Julia Talbot was promised by the doctor for to- 
morrow. The patients were really getting well, al- 
though the cases in the College had been added to by 
ten. 

“What does our nurse think of the prospects of the 
other two?” asked Miss Cooke, leaning forward to 
see Jo Guilford. There was a vacant place there now. 
“Well — where is Josephine — not working in the 
Library?” 

“Miss Josephine did not seem well this afternoon,” 
volunteered Effie softly, behind Miss Cooke’s chair. 
“So I hardly expected her to help me with the supper. 
But I was so busy I didn’t get a chance to go up and 
see. 

“Well, well — we must see about it !” exclaimed Miss 
Cooke thoughtfully. “It won’t do to have her sick.” 

That ended the matter for a time, and, except a 
little uneasiness for an impending trouble that one or 
two of the girls felt, it did not seem to bother the 
others who got back quickly to their meal and their 
hilarity, and thought no more of it. 

But the meal once over. Miss Cooke made her way 
to the top floor. She stumbled, for it was dark, ex- 


114 . 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


cept for the crack of light coming from under the door 
of the front room where the patients were. Miss 
Cooke lighted the gas in the hall, which had been Jo 
Guilford’s duty. She put her head in at the door of 
the “hospital ward” and said a cheery word to the in- 
terned three, who were soon to have their supper 
brought to them. Then she knocked on Jo’s door. 

No response. 

She opened the door and looked in, but it was dark 
and silent. The only light came from the kitchen next 
door, reflected up through the window. 

“Josephine,” she whispered, “are you ill?” But 
when she received no answer, she borrowed a match 
from the invalids’ ward and came in again to light the 
gas. 

The room was entirely vacant. Jo was not on her 
couch as she had expected her to be. Her books were 
lying on her desk under the light. Flung over a chair 
was her long white kitchen apron, evidently thrown 
there after lunch. On the couch lay a pongee waist 
and a serge skirt Jo had been wearing. On the desk, 
beside the books, was a small candy box with a slit in 
the cover, one of Jo’s benefactions for the mission- 
work in Africa. For Jo always felt that, in spite of 
her own straitened circumstances, the poor heathen 
were still worse off and deserved all the sympathy in 
dollars and cents that she could give them. 

It was this box that principally held Miss Cooke’s 
attention. Why should it be broken open when Jo 
always kept it so carefully sealed ? Her mind reverted 
back to the loss of Pegs’ hundred dollars — then to Jo — 

She went back to the front room. The invalids had 


THE DISAPPEARANCE 


115 


seen nothing of Jo since two o’clock that afternoon 
when she took away their trays. But they had heard 
her come up again half an hour later — she lay down, 
one of the girls thought. After a while they heard her 
walking about quite a good deal. Julia volunteered 
that she was sure Jo was pacing the floor, a most un- 
usual thing for her (or any other normal girl, in fact), 
and she thought that Jo must have a toothache. She 
meant to get up and ask her what was the matter, 
but the warmth of the room and the lunch had made 
her drowsy and she had dozed off. 

Miss Cooke did not want to alarm the other girls, 
but she skillfully made inquiries of the others on that 
flo4»r and on the floor below. Mary Hubbard was out, 
preferring to spend a more comfortable evening study- 
ing at the Library. But Spice replied for both that 
they hadn’t seen her since about two-thirty. 

Miss Cooke was seldom so uneasy. Her interview 
with Efifie availed nothing. 

“I don’t know where she could have gone. Miss 
Cooke,” said the latter. “Unless she went to the City. 
Are her hat and coat there ?” 

“No, they’re about the only things not in their usual 
place. I don’t know where she kept her money — ^but 
the funniest thing about it is that her missionary box 
was lying on her desk, broken open.” 

Miss Cooke went back to her room. She walked 
about from one thing to another, and one could see 
that she was extremely upset. She examined some 
growths incubating under cover-glasses on her walnut 
side-table; she fluffed up the pillows on her window- 
seat ; she straightened a picture whose slant had never 


116 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


worried her before, and finally she drew her easy chair 
by the drop-light on her table, threw some poultry 
journals upon her lap, and tried to read. By and by. 
Buff claimed her attention with a yawn and a stretch- 
ing of his yellow body at her knee, his nails digging in 
a little too vehemently. And Buff got his hair combed 
while he basked and purred and blinked in Miss 
Cooke’s lap. 

Ten o’clock. Even ten-thirty. Miss Cooke went 
out to lock the front door, peering across the now 
lightless Campus and up and down the village road, 
where only one or two lamps blinked. She heard the 
water rushing under the arch, as it flowed down from 
the upper dam. Her mind reverted to the disappear- 
ance of one of the students, many years ago— then, 
strangely, to the College ghost, and the ghost that had 
climbed up the piazza roof and taken Pegs’ hundred 
dollars. 

She locked the door with a little laugh, turned out 
the light in the hall, and then creaked upstairs through 
the silent house to the top floor. Jo was still away. 
She put out her light and shut the door. No sound 
came from the invalids’ ward, where Effie had turned 
down the light when she had seen that all was well 
with them for the night. 

Miss Cooke went back again to her room, and then 
finally to bed, with Buff snuggled comfortably at her 
feet. 

Next morning brought no Jo, and no word from her. 
Directly after breakfast Miss Cooke made her way 
over to the Dean’s office to find if, by any chance, Jo 


THE DISAPPEARANCE 


117 


had received permission to go out of town. No per- 
mission had been given, and girls were not allowed, 
in these “Flu times,” to go out without permission, 
even to the City. Nevertheless, they telephoned to a 
family in town who were her friends, but she had not 
been there. Nor had she been at any of the houses 
where she was known in the village. Only old Mr. 
Byron said he had seen Jo going past his window 
toward the sash factory the previous afternoon and 
had waved his hand to her. But as Mr. Byron’s eye- 
sight was not too good with his years, his statement 
was not too seriously credited. 

As a final resort, when Jo did not return by the 
afternoon, they sent a telegram to Galesport, Maine, 
addressed to her mother, and elicited this reply ; 


“MRS GUILFORD AWAY FROM TOWN TWO WEEKS 
DONT KNOW WHERE 


“postmaster” 


If there had not been so much excitement over the 
approaching Christmas holidays, the fact of Jo Guil- 
ford’s disappearance would never have been kept 
within bounds. Only at Journey’s End was there any 
concern, and that was on the part of Miss Cooke and 
Effie. They felt that Jo had gone away intending to 
return and might have gotten ill somewhere. They 
scouted any other idea. But the girls on the second 
floor put another construction upon Jo’s disappearance. 
It was Spice, holding forth in Pegs’ room after dinner : 

“I tell you,” said Spice, “that girl had good reason 
for getting away ! She heard me say what I thought 


118 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


of her and you should have seen the look on her face. 
I don’t think she’ll be back to this burg very soon 
again.” 

“Well,” said Pegs hotly, “you know you have 
nothing to prove your charges. You were just led up 
to it all by a handkerchief with a piece of gum sticking 
to it. It might have no connection at all.” 

“You seemed to think it did, at the time,” retorted 
Spice, “and thanks to your not coming out with it, I 
am now minus a silver brush and comb.” 

“You know Miss Cooke agrees with me.” 

Spice shrugged her shoulders in contempt. “I know 
one thing,” she said, “Jo Guilford will never come 
back while I’m here.” And she flung out of the room. 

“Open the window, Thara,” exclaimed Pegs, “and 
let’s get a breath of fresh air after that. I know what 
I think about Jo and I wish to goodness I’d had the 
spunk to tell her before she went away. Maybe she’d 
have stayed.” 

“You can never tell about these things,” commented 
Thara undecidedly. “I think Spice may be right. A 
girl who goes away like that plainly admits her guilt.” 

“Stop it! — Stop it!” cried Pegs, planting herself at 
her desk, her hands over her ears. “I have to study.” 


CHAPTER XII 


NOEL 

In the midst of all this came Christmas, with a 
spirit that might have cld^red the atmosphere at 
Journey’s End, had not the weed of rancor been too 
deeply rooted. 

During the next few days there was nothing but 
bustle and busy-ness. Trunks had to be packed for 
home-going and they were pulled out long before it 
was necessary. Railroad tickets had to be ordered and 
trunk-checks applied for. And then the girls had to 
study — of course, that had to be squeezed in somehow. 
And incidentally, they were going to have a personal 
Christmas tree the night of the Christmas concert and 
the “Grind” Committee in charge of it, consisting 
mainly of Pegs, had been heard giggling behind closed 
doors, barred by an ENGAGED sign. 

That Christmas concert! The big double choir of 
the College were going to sing, and for some weeks, 
through the open windows of the Chapel, in the even- 
ing, there had floated the echoes of Christmas anthems 
and old carols they were practicing. Professor 
Howard was getting his church and vesper choirs into 
shape, to sing the music that was so well loved. 

There had been doubt, at flrst, as to whether there 
could be any Christmas concert, owing to the danger 
of influenza. Large gatherings were not liked, and if 
119 


120 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


many visitors were to come in from the City, there 
was every chance of their bringing with them the 
dreaded germ. The first decision was to bar visitors, 
but after due consideration and debate. Professor 
Howard hit upon a plan to admit visitors by ticket 
only, and he guaranteed not to give tickets to any one 
who, in his diagnosis, presented the least symptoms of 
the Flu. So the City and Town were not to be entirely 
deprived of their pleasure, after all. 

“And just think,” said Thara that night, as she wag 
getting into her black waist and skirt, “Mr. Howard 
says he has given five hundred tickets away.” 

“Five hundred!” exclaimed Pegs, as she was shak*' 
ing out the folds of her crisp white surplice at arms’ 
length. “Why, I didn’t know there were that many 
people outside of College who didn’t have the Flu I” 

For Pegs was in the Junior Choir, too, having gotten 
in, so she said, on the echo of Thara’s voice, and she 
always sat next to Thara when they sang at vespers, 
so that Thara would “fill in the cracks.” 

To-night the dinner bell rang at 5.30, and its sum- 
mons was promptly obeyed. There was excitement as 
the girls seated themselves at the dinner table, the 
black costumes denoting the singers of the house. 

“Are you ready to sing?” asked Miss Cooke of Pegs, 
whcf sat next tp her. 

“I’m ready” replied Pegs. “I don’t know about 
the singing, though.” 

At which Miss Cooke, knowing the secret, laughed. 

“But we have our Christmas party first. Don’t for- 
get, Miss Cooke.” 

“And when is Santa Claus coming?” asked Mary 


NOEL 


121 


Hubbard, who had watched the Committee all day, 
trailing into the house fir-trees they had chopped from 
way down in Devil’s Garden, and greens they had 
ripped out of their frozen hollows in the woods. 

“Oh, well, Santa doesn’t generally tell beforehand.’’ 

“But what did you do with all those greens?” per- 
sisted Spice Becker. 

“Greens? What greens?” asked Pegs innocently. 
“Oh, singing makes me so hungry! Don’t detain me 
from this most delicious chicken salad — and hot bis- 
cuits! Effie, dear, it’s so good to have you well 
again I” 

After supper, mystery. All but the Committee were 
admonished to stay in the parlor and play the piano, 
while the Committee drew the portieres and skipped 
upstairs. Ten minutes later, the ringing of the dinner 
bell put a stop to the din of the music, and at the top 
of the stairs a red-gowned Santa Claus beckoned them 
to come up. 

“Be not afraid,” he said. “I am going to take you 
up the chimney to my sled on the roof.” 

“Roof ! We’ll slide down the shingles.” 

“Say jingles, not shingles,” shaking the sleighbells 
buckled round his corpulence. 

“Jingle bells, jingle bells, 

Jingle all the way. 

Oh, what fun it is to ride 
In a one-horse open sleigh! 

“Sing, if you want to get your little orange and bag 
of candy!” And all joined in, while Santa jigged and 
jingled around : 


122 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


‘‘Jingle bells, jingle bells, 

Jingle all the way. 

Oh, what fun it is to ride 
In a one-horse open sleigh!” 

Old Santa’s voice was cracked — and it gave away 
his identity. But nothing daunted his jolly hilarity, 
as he bounded before them, two steps at a time, lead- 
ing to the top floor, and flinging open the door of the 
sick-room in the front. 

“Doctor prescribed a teaspoonful of excitement to- 
night, seasoned with a few grains of common sense. 
ENTER!” 

Julia Talbot started forward, to do the honors of 
the occasion, while the other two patients, dressed in 
bathrobes, were sitting up in easy chairs. The room 
was draped with greens and red bells, and over in the 
corner stood the Christmas tree, hung with many- 
colored papers, each gay paper holding a candy. And 
there was “snow,” and gold tinsel, and strings of pink 
and white pop-corn; and there were mysterious pack- 
ages and bundles. 

“Welcome to Flui-ville,” began Julia grandly, and 
might have ended so, but for a sudden draught of air 
— “Ker-choo!” 

“Gracious!” exclaimed Santa, jumping. “Don’t do 
that again ! You’ll make m'e jump out of my suit !” 

But the visitors to Flui-ville stood on no further cere- 
mony, but deposited themselves on the floor, round- 
about the TREE, their feet under them, Turkish 
fashion. And Miss Cooke was there, too, with Buff 
in her arms, and so was Effie. 


NOEL 


123 


“Now, I know you are all anxious for your presents, 
so we will begin.” 

And one by one, the mysterious packages were 
handed from the tree by one of the Committee to 
Santa Claus, who read out each girl’s name. 

Each was requested to read off the verse that accom- 
panied, her parcel. Such presents, and such verses, 
and such gales of laughter! 

Thara got a golden harp, decked with St. Patrick 
green, bought from some five and ten cent store. 

“Oh, angel with the golden voice. 

Upon thy golden lyre. 

Sing us to heaven, keep us entranced. 

With that celestial choir !” 

Mary Hubbard got a little cubical box which opened 
with a squeal. A jumping-jack with a quizzical face 
bobbed out of it, whom Mary promptly named “Mr. 
Moriarty” and hugged to her heart. 

“Mary always wanted a ‘man,’ ” Santa explained. 

Spice took her package with misgiving. She was 
afraid to open it, but put it to her ear and shook it. 

“That’s right,” said Santa, “shake it. That’s what 
it’s for. But better unwrap it and give us a peek.” 

It was a salt-shaker ! 

“Plenty of salt,” remarked Santa, while Spice 
pouted. “No comments ?” 

“No.” 

“None needed. — Hurry up now,” said Santa to the 
Committee. “Any more ? Any more ?” 

“Pegs Whiting,” called the girl at the tree. 

“Pegs Whiting,” repeated Santa. “Where is Pegs 


124 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Whiting? O — Pe-egs! Well, I declare! She keeps 
us hunting! She must have fallen into one of the 
cracks of her voice. — Oh, there you are !” And Santa 
waved his arm toward the door. 

And as they turned around to look, off came Santa’s 
mask and cap, and Pegs was revealed to them when 
they turned back again. 

“Now open your package. Pegs,” insisted Spice. 

“I’m really— er — er — afraid to,” said Pegs, dan- 
gling a little oblong box at the end of a string, “for I 
didn’t have any hand in making up this one.” 

But she opened the package with a sigh. Inside was 
a small Japanese box containing a brown powdery sub- 
stance, and a Christmas card bearing the inscription: 

“yours for a good, hard sneeze.” 

‘‘Ktr-choo!” said Pegs as she put the box to her 
nose. “Alias, Snuff! I suppose I’m to snuff, all 
right. You rascals, to harp on my pet string!” And 
she shook her fist at the other two, who stood on the 
other side of the tree, laughing. 

“Well, now, what next?” said Santa, resuming 
his cap and his role. “What are those little packages 
of pink and blue tissue paper?” 

“Why, I don’t know who put them there,” pre- 
tended the others. “Not the ‘Grind’ Committee.” 

“Well, all the more reason why we should open 
them.” 

The packages were all alike and each package bore 
the name of a girl. Inside were three linen handker- 
chiefs, bearing the girl’s initials, and a Christmas card 
from Miss Cooke. 


NOEL 


125 


“Well, well — " commented Santa, holding his sides. 
“This is a royal present in these hard times. Miss 
Cooke must have noticed our wash.” 

Whereat they all laughed, and Miss Cooke was 
“hugged to pieces.” 

“But, Martha,” said Santa to one of his assistants, 
“what is that white thing under the greens?” indicat- 
ing with the toe of his boot a little pile under the 
tree. 

“Oh, that ? Tm sure I haven’t the least idea.” 

“Well, let us see,” said Santa masterfully. “Um-m, 
I think maybe Miss Cooke had better investigate this.” 
And he bore, with great pomp, a tray-like object 
covered with a white napkin. “Take the napkin off. 
Miss Cooke,” he said, depositing the object in her lap. 

“Oh-h!” It took Miss Cooke’s breath away, for 
underneath the napkin lay a box with a dozen silver 
teaspoons. 

“Appropriate words fail us,” said Santa. “We just 
wish you a Merry Christmas!” 

But there were a few words, and Miss Cooke wiped 
her glasses many times. And during the hubbub and 
giggling, a package was presented to Effie, containing 
a beautiful blue sweater, knitted by the champion 
knitter of Hampden town, from pounds and pounds of 
wool. 

“Knit from the yams Mrs. Rachael tells,” com- 
mented Santa. “For once gossip finds a useful end. — 
Oh, is there something else ?” 

Santa took off the tree a little circle of pink tissue 
that had hung on a branch. 

“Let me see — ‘BLUFF’ — where are my glasses? — 


126 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Oh, ‘For Buff/ ” And Santa unwrapped the little 
circle of tissue. It was a collar of tan leather, studded 
with gilt nails. 

“A collar, for Buff to wear Sundays. — I don’t sup- 
pose we can expect him to wear it every day, or he’d 
wear his hair off and have a bald spot around the 
neck.” 

Miss Cooke laughed and helped to adjust the collar 
on Buff, who looked immensely proud. And prouder 
yet was Miss Cooke. 

“Phew ! It’s hot,” at last said Santa, and, his work 
now done, he commenced to take off his red cap and 
robe, and his pillow stomacher. 

“Now I can be happy again,” said Pegs, as she col- 
lapsed on the floor at the feet of Miss Cooke. “But 
I forgot, where is our choir? — No, don’t look at Julia’s 
clock, it’s always fast. We have half an hour yet. 
Let’s sing the Christmas carols for our invalids. They 
won’t be there to-night.” 

And while they sang, they heard the clothes ele- 
vator rattling up in the hall, aftd Effie came in with a 
tray loaded with cups of after-dinner coffee, sur- 
rounding a big box of chocolates. 

“That is Effie’s treat,” said Miss Cooke. 

“Gorgeous ! Scrumptious ! Will wonders ever 
cease !” For the coffee — and, above all, the chocolates 
— touched the right spot. And while the others ate, 
six of the choir grouped together and sang those 
beautiful old carols, the Christmas songs of various 
climes. 

Sarah Thayer sang the solo parts, and as her flne 
young voice rose and searched each nook and cranny 


NOEL 


127 


of the big room, it sounded indeed like one of those 
celestial choristers. 

“Thara Thara,” whispered Pegs, as they were finally 
sauntering down the stairs, arms round each other’s 
shoulders, “it is most divine ! I wish you were going 
to sing a solo to-night, instead of Flo Dietz. You bet 
I do !” 

But there was no time to lose. The Chapel bell 
was ringing. They should have been down in the 
music room long ago. Pegs put on her black skirt and 
combed back some loose ends of fair hair that had 
gone awry. Then they slipped on their coats and, 
cottas over their arms, stepped out into the crisp night 
and struck across the Campus. 

All the College was going in the direction of the 
Chapel, as the bell was pealing out. In front, stood 
several trolley cars, just arrived from the City and one 
from the direction of Elmhurst College. A line of 
automobiles, too, that brought more friends to the Col- 
lege, was there. At the front of the Chapel was a 
flurry and rustle of wraps and fine gowns, and a bustle 
of ushers, and program-girls, and guests, while inter- 
mingling, the students slipped in quietly here and 
there. And little by little, as the bell died down to a 
toll, the whole Chapel was filled, except a bank of 
empty seats on the platform, sloping down toward and 
beyond the organ desk. These were for the Choir. 

Downstairs in the music room and in and out of the 
brick-lined halls, went members of the Choir, snow- 
white cottas over their black dresses, and on the left 
side, a spray of holly, a huge box of which Professor 
Howard and his wife had brought in their automobile. 


128 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Professor Howard was busy — giving out music and 
funny comments, stirring his Choir to a pitch of en- 
thusiasm that would make them sing well. 

“Now, remember, the College is going home day 
after to-morrow, and you want to make this concert 
a worth-while memory to take home with them — ^to 
say nothing of the guests from the City — and the Elm- 
hurst boys. Does that strike an echoing chord ? 
Now, everybody, take your places in line and stay put. 
We are going up in a minute — now put on your best 
smile. ‘The voice with a smile wins.’ Miss Dietz — 
Miss Baldwin.” He gathered his soprano and con- 
tralto soloists on each side of him, where he could see 
them. “You know where to sing to-^-up to the roof ! 
— ’What is the matter. Miss Dietz ?” 

“It’s very warm,” replied Florence Dietz, clearing 
her throat and swallowing uncomfortably. 

“Oh, no, not warm. — You’ll feel better upstairs, 
where it’s not so close. Come, let’s go.” 

He led a double line up the narrow, winding stairs, 
while up the opposite stairs another double line fol- 
lowed Miss Baldwin. Out at the Chapel platform the 
two lines converged, as a whisper of admiration 
fluttered through the audience. 

Professor Howard slipped over his organ bench, 
cleared his gown of it, arranged the music, pulled out 
a few stops, wiped his face and glasses, pulled out a 
few more stops, then looked back over his choir to 
see if they had finally settled down and were ready. 
Then, following a huge intake of breath from the 
organ, came some introductory lines, and the notes of 
that beautiful carol soared up among the arches: 


NOEL 


129 


‘The Babe in Bethrem's manger laid — 

In — hum’-le form so low — 

By wondering angels is surveyed — 

Through — all its scenes of woe I 

“Noel! No-ell 

Now sing a Saviour's birth I 
All hail His coming down to earth, 

Who raises us to heaven!" 

And so they went through all the old tunes the Col- 
lege and its friends knew and loved so well — carols of 
all nations, that lost nothing with American voices, on 
American ears : “Oh, come, all ye faithful,” “As by my 
sheep I watched at night,” with the “Joy, joy, joy,” 
vox humana, done by a tenor brought from the City 
and secreted in back of the organ by the smiling Pro- 
fessor Howard. “Oh, little town of Bethlehem,” and 
“Silent night, holy night,” which had not lost favor be- 
cause it had been sung in enemy trenches during the 
dreadful war. 

During this recital, which went off most grandly, 
only one cloud dimmed Professor Howard’s vision. 
Florence Dietz sat to his left and a little in front of 
him. He had heard her clear her throat rather oddly 
several times, and saw her put her hand to her head 
and face. Was she nervous? he thought. No, that 
was not a sign of nervousness, and Florence Dietz 
had sung solos before. Finally, during one of the 
choruses, Florence Dietz got up, looked around rather 
dazedly at him, and went toward the side door. Her 
roommate, sitting in the audience near by, followed her 
as she slipped out. 

“Well, I wonder what that means ?” muttered Pro- 
fessor Howard to Sarah Thayer who sat beside him. 


130 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Miss Dietz doesn’t look right to me to-night, some- 
how.” 

But the music had to go on, and Professor Howard 
began the next song. “Miss Dietz is due for the next 
number,” he said. “Nice time to be running out.” 

When this was finished. Miss Dietz’ roommate re- 
appeared at the door of the anteroom, and during the 
intermission made her way to the organ desk, where 
she whispered a few words to Professor Howard. 

“You don’t say!” muttered the latter, looking after 
her, spell-bound, as she retreated. “Here’s a pretty 
mess ! Miss Dietz has the Flu. She stuck it out the 
best she could, and she couldn’t hold out any longer. 
Now she can’t sing her solo !” 

“How dreadful,” said those around. “What are 
you going to do now ?” 

Professor Howard wiped his face with his handker- 
chief. “Search me !” he said. 

Pegs, who sat the other side of Sarah Thayer, got 
a brilliant thought and acted upon it. 

“Professor Howard,” she whispered, leaning across 
Sarah and pulling the organist by the sleeve of his 
gown, “I tell you what you do. Let Sarah Thayer 
sing! You know she can, and she knows the part! 
Make her!” 

Professor Howard was catching at straws that 
moment. Anything would do — ^Yes, he knew Miss 
Thayer sang well — but solo? 

“Make her sing!” still echoed Pegs. 

“Sing, Miss Thayer,” ordered Professor Howard 
with a certain decision, and he began to play the intro- 


NOEL 


131 


duction of the next anthem. ''Everybody, stand up! 
Ready? Miss Thayer, sing!’’ 

There was no time for embarrassment. Pegs’ 
nudge had brought her to herself and the realization 
of what she must do. The music was upon her. She 
sang : 


“O holy night, the stars are brightly shining; 

It is the night of the dear Saviour’s birth I 
Long lay the world, in sin and error pining, 

Till he appeared, and the soul felt its worth — ” 

It was the same fine young voice that had sung to 
the invalids an hour before. Clear and clearer it 
rose up to the roof-beams : 

‘‘A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, 

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn — 

Fall on your knees ! — oh, hear the angel voices ! 

O night divine, O night when Christ was born! 

O night divine — O night — O night divine 1” 

And then, with the soft echo of the chorus : 

‘Tall on your knees 1 — oh, hear the angel voices I 
O night divine, O night when Christ was born ! 

O night divine — O night — O night divine V* 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE RETURN 

The Christmas holidays were over — ^much too soon. 
Two weeks had flown on the wings of a gale, and be- 
fore they knew it they were back again. The Fresh- 
men, especially, went home with a fierce longing, and 
a hope never to come back again — ^how forlorn a hope 
they well knew. They went home, too, with a mental 
swagger and a gusto of having many things to tell — 
they were cram-jammed with things to tell. 

Thara Thara went off with a halo. Her unexpected 
solo at the Christmas Concert had carried the College 
off its feet. She had taken all the other solos that 
Florence Dietz was scheduled to sing, and her splendid 
fresh voice and her rushing in to fill the breach made 
Professor Howard ready to hug her, so he said — if he 
had not been married. 

“You’re a good sport. Miss Thayer,” he said after 
the concert. “I don’t know what I’d have done with- 
out you !” 

“Isn’t she, just?” cried Pegs, wrapping her white- 
clad arms about her roommate. “Didn’t she have the 
spunk !” 

“Well, she had the voice, anyway,” said Professor 
Howard. “It was you that had the spunk. You 
literally shoved her on her feet.” 


THE RETURN 


133 


But nevertheless, Pegs took none of the credit. 
Thara had the voice. The halo was all Sarah’s own. 

But what difference did it make ? They were going 
home, and Pegs felt that Daddy would be satisfied with 
her. Mother, she thought, wouldn’t be — quite — if she 
could have seen her sweeping her own room and wash- 
ing her own handkerchiefs. In the hustle and hurry, 
nobody cared about halo or credit. 

Mary Hubbard puttered around the halls and down 
cellar in her comfy slippers all night long, fussing 
about the packing of her steamer trunk, which was 
going to be taken before the rising bell the next day. 
She went to bed to dream about missing trains, etc. 
Next day, when the time for departure was drawing 
nigh. Spice discovered that Mary was without hat or 
shoes, having packed them into her steamer trunk 
which had gone ! She went home in her comfy 
slippers, with galoshes over them, and Pegs lent her a 
tam-o’-shanter. 

But they were all coming back now, hurrying to 
catch trains going the other way. The holidays had 
been crammed with doings — theaters, parties, dress- 
making, concerts, to say nothing of meetings with 
loved friends and relatives. 

They were all back by the evening before the open- 
ing of the second term, trailing down the road from 
the trolley car, suitcases in hand, to where the lights 
of Journey’s End glowed out into the night. It had 
snowed during the holidays, to an appreciable depth. 
It all looked so white and queer — that cold returning. 

The first thing Pegs saw as she entered the hall was 
Miss Cooke, standing before the bright fireplace, with 


134 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Bufif in her arms, trying to persuade him that all good 
cats stayed in at night. 

“Oh, Miss Cooke!” cried Pegs, dropping her suit- 
case and hugging Miss Cooke with a hug that almost 
dislodged Buff from her arms. “I’m so glad to be 
back again! I really am! It’s so good to see you!” 

She forgot all about the coldness and queerness, once 
she got inside. She was home again, and with a 
“Yoo-hoo !” she was up in her room and in her room- 
mate’s arms. 

There were things to tell ! 

All the girls were back that night, and every little 
while a tramp on the stairs and a thud of a suitcase 
told of a new arrival. As they looked across from 
Pegs’ window, the whole Campus, which had lain dark 
and cheerless for two weeks, now glowed with lights, 
that fell in streaks from the many windows, upon the 
snow. It would not be long before College life would 
be running normally again. 

About half-past nine Pegs went down to the kitchen 
for a pitcher of water and Spice followed with her 
pitcher, Mary Hubbard trailing on behind for need of 
company. Pegs was pumping away to get cold water 
when suddenly the door from the dining room opened. 
It was Jo Guilford, Gladstone bag in hand. She had 
just arrived. 

“Well, I snum!” from Pegs who almost dropped 
her pitcher. “Where did you come from?” 

“From Boston,” was the quiet answer. They could 
see that the girl was embarrassed and she looked very 
white. 

“Well — well — ” began Spice, her nose at an incline 


THE RETURN 


135 


of forty-five degrees toward the zenith. She got 
no further. She changed her mind, and nose still 
in the ascendant, she turned and walked out of the 
kitchen. 

Almost simultaneously, at the door leading out from 
the hallway of Miss Cooke’s apartment, appeared Miss 
Cooke in a gray kimono. She looked as if she had 
hurried out of her room, to prevent eventualities. 

“Why, Josephine,” she said, “how are you feeling? 
Where is Cicely?” She turned to Pegs. “Did I not 
hear her a moment ago?” 

“She went upstairs,” replied Pegs, still bewildered. 
“Where have you been, Jo? We were dreadfully 
worried.” 

“Josephine has been sick.” This came from Miss 
Cooke. 

“Sick? Sick? — Why — ” Pegs was at a loss for 
words. 

“Josephine wrote me last week,” explained Miss 
Cooke hurriedly. “All of you come to my study, 
though, and we’ll talk. I was just getting a little hot 
lemonade ready,” she went on, as she led the way 
through the narrow hall, “and you are just in time 
for it. It will do you good, Josephine, after your long 
trip.” 

Pegs and Jo followed Miss Cooke in, Mary hanging 
on diffidently in the rear, her brow worried with some- 
thing she was trying to recall. 

“You see,” said Miss Cooke, “Josephine felt very 
sick the day she left here. She knew she was getting 
influenza, and didn’t want to give us the trouble of 
taking care of her, too.” 


136 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Influenza!” cried Pegs. “You had influenza? — 
And all the while we thought — ” 

“You thought I’d left because — ^because of what 
Spice Becker thought.” Jo was studying the corner 
of the rug, as she turned it over with her toe. “I — 
I — know it was rather a miserable way to leave with- 
out saying good-by, but I just — just — couldn’t after 
the scene Spice Becker made. I couldn’t stand it 
any longer. I had to go and — I thought if I was 
going to be sick I’d better go to Aunt Etta’s in Bos- 
ton, where mother and I were going to spend Christ- 
mas. But, Miss Cooke, I didn’t know I’d left you 
worrying about me, till I got your letter in reply to 
mine.” 

“There, child, don’t worry about that now,” said 
Miss Cooke. “I suppose you were too upset with 
Cicely and perhaps too sick to think.” 

“I was dazed and miserable. But I did leave you a 
note, anyway. Miss Cooke, and that explained.” 

“You wrote to me?” Miss Cooke was puzzled. “I 
found no note.” 

“Why, I gave it — yes, I gave it to Mary Hubbard 
to give to you. You remember I did, don’t you, Mary?” 

“Why, I was trying to think — " trailed Mary’s voice 
from a Morris chair. “I — ^you did give me a note, 
but I had to go to recitations and I put it in a book — ” 

“You never gave me any note, child,” said Miss 
Cooke, “and it was most important.” 

“I know — I knew something was wrong all along. 
I — I didn’t know what became of the note.” 

“It is too bad, Jo, the way things happened,” said 
Pegs. “We were all very much worried about you. — 


THE RETURN 


137 


As for Spice, I shouldn’t let what she says or thinks 
worry me.” 

“It is easy to say that, but not so easy to practice.” 

Jo went back to studying the rug, and Pegs, abashed, 
said no more. 

“I am sorry — I am sorry,” was the last thing Mary 
said that night, as she took Jo’s bag from her and 
went, ashamed, upstairs. “Jo,” she added, as she de- 
posited the really heavy burden outside the dark little 
room till Jo could light a light. “I could die for 
having forgotten that note. I don’t deserve to be 
forgiven — but — anyway, I don’t believe what Spice 
believes — and — ” 

Jo put both arms about her impulsively and kissed 
her. Mary went to bed that night sure that she was 
forgiven, however little she deserved it. 

They had to get back to the routine of things. It 
was not so hard, because the work had been cut out 
for them and they had to go to recitations next day 
just as usual. Latin and Math and English opened 
to them yearning, cavernous arms, and they had to 
go — with a grunt and a dragging step. Oh, well, 
what did they come to College for ? 

And yet there were compensations, too, to make 
up for the hard work. That afternoon, after recita- 
tions, here and there snowshoes came into evidence 
and girls floundering around on them, ungainly, in the 
expanses of snow in the back of things. Here and 
there, too, girls on skis, pushing along laboriously on 
things that always met or diverged, but never moved 
along parallel. But what interested our Freshmen 
most were the boys on the church road, in front of 


138 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Journey’s End. They had worn the snow on the hill 
down to a thick heavy sheet and down this hill they 
were coasting on sleds. 

Pegs and Thara were going across the opened path 
to the apple-tree gate when they came upon this lus- 
cious scene. 

“I wonder if they could be persuaded to let us ride,” 
remarked Pegs, casting longing eyes on a “belly- 
whopper.” “Hey, Billy! will you give us a ride?” 

“To-morrow!” called Billy, as he whizzed past on 
his stomach. 

“Oh, say, won’t you,” coaxed Pegs, as Billy dragged 
his sled back up again, “for some fudge? — Yes, surely,” 
she added as she saw Billy weakening, “and a dime, 
too.” 

But Billy rallied. He had been in school all day 
and these were his few minutes before chores. 

“I don’t know, you might smash the sled. You 
don’t know how and there’s a bad turn by the bridge 
over the brook.” 

“Oh, I’d pay for it if I broke it,” Pegs hastened to 
assure the proprietor. 

“I don’t know,” he said, “sizing” her up. “Any- 
way, sleds are more expensive than they used to be.” 
And he moved off, with that as a final argument. 

“It looks as if we’d have to buy a family sled,” 
remarked Sarah. 

“Good idea. Wonder if they keep them in the vil- 
lage store. We will have a council of war and take 
a collection for one. — There’s Miss Cooke in the hen- 
yard. Let’s go and see what she’s doing.” 

They threw their books on the front piazza and 


THE RETURN 


139 


sauntered back toward the barn. The hen-yard had 
been cleared of snow by the now convalescent Ham, 
who had piled it along the wall of chicken wire. Dur- 
ing storms, the chickens stayed in the bam and coops, 
but now they were out in the clearing, strutting back 
and forth, occasionally stopping and pulling up first 
one cold foot and then the other, to warm them in 
their feathers. 

“I am looking over my prize birds,” Miss Cooke 
remarked, as the girls approached. 

“Art those the prize ones — that yellow fellow with 
the chest? He looks like a railroad magnate, or like 
a mayor receiving royalty.” 

“He is the cock — that waked the morn,” replied 
Miss Cooke, reciting. “He is going to the Poultry 
Shoftv in New York.” 

“Really!” 

“Yes, I’ve entered a cock and a hen; also a cockerel 
and a pullet.” 

The girls looked up, puzzled. 

“That is a new one on us. Miss Cooke,” remarked 
Pegs. “What does ‘cockerel’ mean? It sounds like 
Anglo-Saxon.” 

“It is hen-talk,” laughed Miss Cooke. “It means 
‘young cock.’ I’m not quite sure, however, which 
hen to take.” 

“Oh, yoo-hoo I” A halloo came from the top 
floor dormer window. Julia Talbot and Fanny 
Kincaid were there, with heads out. “What cher 
doing?” 

“Come on down,” called back Pegs. “We’re pick- 
ing winners!” 


140 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Julia and Fanny were down in a jiffy, returning 
back into the house to steal coats from the hall and 
throw them over their shoulders when Miss Cooke 
insisted on their going back for something. 

“You see,” explained Miss Cooke, “this is the prize 
lot in this run-way. I rank them the way I mark 
examination papers. I mark these AA. Over there 
in the other compartment are the possibilities and 
the has-beens. They are marked B. Those over in 
the far-away section are marked CC. They are the 
eatables” 

The girls laughed with Miss Cooke. 

“Poor relations, so to speak,” remarked Fanny. 

“I suppose,” suggested Sarah, “they are the ones 
we like the best. We are best acquainted with them.” 

“On Sundays,” added Pegs. 

“At breakfast,” went on Miss Cooke, “you get ac- 
quainted with their progeny.” 

There was a pause, filled with a long smile from 
Miss Cooke. 

“Oh, eggs?” at last burst om Julia. “Of course,” 
as they all laughed. 

“And sometimes you get the progeny of Class B. 
But Class AA — ” 

“They are the privileged class. Do they lay golden 
eggs?” 

“Almost. Anyway, they sell for ten dollars a 
dozen.” 

“Phew !” from Pegs. “What height has the H. C. 
L. reached!” 

“Well, not exactly H. C. L. ; these are meant for 
the incubator. Buff Orpingtons are a splendid hardy 


THE RETURN 


141 


breed, and fine layers. They are very popular. And 
that is why I must select carefully, as there is going 
to be much competition.” 

“I should select that biddy with the embonpoint,” 
suggested Pegs, indicating a fine healthy creature, to 
whom his royal highness was paying his devoirs. 
“She looks like the leader of the 400.” 

“Heaven preserve her then,” remarked Julia, who 
was a New Yorker also, and, living in the Bronx, 
had a right to pass an opinion on such things. “Now, 
I would take this slimmer lady. She is so agile and 
athletic. She looks like Joan of Arc in armor.” 

“On a horse?” 

“Off a horse. I think she is a prize beauty. Won’t 
you take her, Miss Cooke ?” 

“I think I have almost decided to take Margaret’s 
choice. In a worldly world, you know, embonpoint 
counts. Besides she has many other points.” 

“So you will take Bedilia!” cried Pegs, clapping 
her hands. 

“Oh, not by that name,” objected Miss Cooke. “It 
would ruin her chances !” 

“But Bedilia is lovely ! Long for Biddy, you know.” 

“ A rose by any other name will smell as sweet,” 
quoth Fanny. 

“But not this rose,” persisted Miss Cooke. “You 
will have to do better than that if you want to name 
her.” 

“Oh, I know,” cried Thara. “We will give a ro- 
mantic name and a real patriotic name.” 

“What is it, Thara?” said Pegs. “Hurry, don’t 
keep me in suspense so long.” 


142 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“We will call her ‘Lady Hampden/ in honor of the 
College.” 

“That’s better/’ approved Miss' Cooke. “ ‘Lady 
Hampden’ will look well on the program.” 

“Now we will have to give his high-and-mightiness 
an appellation,” went on Julia. “He looks like a lord — ” 

“I have it,” from Pegs — “Lord Elmhurst!” 

“Well, that’s fine,” said Miss Cooke. “Now I shall 
have to write to the Committee to-night and give 
them the detail of my entries. The show is next week 
and we leave for the city on Saturday.” 

“Well, I’m sure we wish you the best of luck. Miss 
Cooke,” said Pegs, as they moved off in the now 
fast-gathering twilight, to dress for supper. “I hope 
Lord Elmhurst and Lady Hampden will come back 
with blue ribbons flying 1” 


CHAPTER XIV 


BLACK AND MIDNIGHT DEEDS 

Saturday came — the day that the four Orpingtons 
were to start for New York. Miss Cooke had been 
up bright and early, bustling about the henyard and the 
barn, and giving last instructions to Effie and Ham as 
to how they should take care of her “birds” in her 
absence. A certain desperate, protesting squawking 
told the inhabitants of Journey’s End that his high- 
and-mightiness Lord Elmhurst had been caught after 
a chase, and was at last in the crate. Lady Hampden 
was more tractable, being of a trusting nature. The 
cockerel and pullet named “William Tell” and “Spring 
Maid” respectively, were caught without much ado 
or noise. 

Miss Cooke missed breakfast, but as the girls were 
eating they saw, through the dining room windows, a 
motor delivery wagon back up to the barn and Miss 
Cooke superintending the transfer of her precious 
birds to the same, with minute instructions to the 
driver. Her suitcase was then put into the wagon be- 
fore its doors were shut again and it chugged off, while 
Miss Cooke hurried in to get her gloves and handbag. 

The girls flocked to the hall to see her off, leaving 
breakfast unfinished and napkins unfolded. 

“Oh, Miss Cooke!” cried the girls, as they were 
143 


144 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


clattering down the front steps. “Good luck to you 
and our birds of Paradise ! Bon voyage !’’ 

“Thank you,” said Miss Cooke, out of breath, stop- 
ping for a moment and then going back to the group. 
“Now, girls. I’m going to be gone a week, and I 
want you all to be good. And I want you to take 
care and dress warmly.” 

“Oh, we will, we will.” 

“We’ll be as good as gold,” from Pegs. 

“Effie will look out for you and so will Louise Gay- 
lord, who, as Senior, takes my place as head of the 
house.” 

“We’ll be real good,” said Thara. “Don’t worry. 
Just enjoy yourself and bring back lots of blue rib- 
bons.” 

“Well, all right. I won’t worry. Write to me. 
Effie has the address. Good-by; I must hurry or I’ll 
miss the car.” 

Yes, they meant well; but then, how wonderful that 
feeling of freedom when the one supposed to watch 
over you goes off on a journey! 

The sled the village store-keeper had promised to get 
them had not yet arrived, but bribes of sundry nickels 
had elicited a number of rides that Saturday after- 
noon, which only served to whet the appetite for more. 
But the winter sun sank only too soon, and night found 
them on tip-toe for something exciting. 

“What do you say, Thara,” said Pegs as they all 
separated after prayer meeting in the parlor, which 
had not, indeed, subdued their spirits, “let’s have that 
spread to-night. Mother just stuffed my trunk. I 
have jam and cookies, and minced ham and sardines. 


BLACK AND MIDNIGHT DEEDS 115 


and if we don’t begin soon, those things are all going 
to spoil.” 

“Perfectly dandy ! But I have to do Geometry now. 
Let’s have it to-morrow.” 

“To-morrow nothing. I feel like doing something 
wild. We’ll do it after ten.” 

“Now, easy. Pegs! You know, I have only two 
more sit-ups and I’ll need them, goodness knows, for 
Midyears.” 

“Sit-ups! Who said sit-ups? We don’t need to 
take any to-night. We’ll just put the light out as 
usual. There’s a fine moon out, and the snow makes 
it all the brighter. All we need is to raise the shades.” 

“You know what you promised Miss Cooke,” re- 
minded Thara. 

“Yes.” Pegs was thoughtful for a moment. “But, 
lands! We’re not going to make a noise. We’re 
only going to eat. And it’ll be just for a little while. 
And we’ll have Mary and Spice in, and Julia Talbot 
and Fanny Kincaid. — My! I’m still hungry, Thara. 
I’ve got to eat!” 

“Well, all right. Go ahead and fix your spread 
and send out invitations. I’ve work to do.” And 
Thara dropped into the chair at her desk and buried 
herself in her Geometry. 

The invitations were whispered within the two other 
rooms and received with high glee. Eating forms 
ninety-five percent of a college girl’s life. Not the 
three prosaic more or less square meals a day; but 
the ’tween meals, that stand out like milestones in many 
a diary and letter home. No affair is complete with- 
out something to EAT. 


146 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


And what a zest there is to “stolen sweets” like 
this. Their R. S. V. P. was a hug and a dance around. 
They were ready to eat — they were ready for some- 
thing as scandalously wild as they could possibly imag- 
ine with the materials at hand. 

The retiring bell found Pegs floating around in her 
bathrobe, opening cans and olive bottles and glasses 
of jelly. She had previously made a raid to the kitchen 
in her gymnasium sneakers and had commandeered 
handfuls of college biscuit, but had to beat a quick 
retreat with most of her intentions left behind, when 
she heard Efifie’s door creak open. 

An ENGAGED sign on their door had up to this 
time guarded their privacy from intrusion. Now on 
the first stroke of ten, their light went out, for Sue 
Bradford, a homely red-headed girl who was proctor 
and whose conscientiousness made up for her lack of 
beauty, was very particular about lights and saw to 
it that every room was dark after ten and every door 
closed. She was a fiend at stooping down and “Sher- 
lock-Holmesing” under the crack, to see that no glow 
of light remained. You could not fool Sue. 

Thara, divested of her garments and her worry about 
Geometry, now joined in the preparations. There were 
smothered footsteps, muted questions and answers, and 
by and by, when all seemed quite dead about the house, 
the knob of their door turned softly and four figures 
in nightgowns and bathrobes pattered in and plumped 
themselves about on the couches in expectant atti- 
tudes. 

What was forthcoming was quite up to their expec- 


/ 




They were. ready to eat — they were ready for something scandalously wild. 





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BLACK AND MIDNIGHT DEEDS liT 


tations. Sardines on crackers, and olives, jelly sand- 
wiches, more sandwiches, cookies and nuts — all in the 
gloaming of that darkened room with the wonderful 
moonlight streaming in through the windows. 

“I want to keep the olives right by me,” whispered 
Spice. “They’re heavenly! But say, how do you 
reach them when they get down so far?” 

“Take my hat pin,” suggested Sarah. “It’s behind 
that blue vase on my chiffonier.” 

“What color did you say it was, Thara?” inquired 
Julia Talbot, as the girls giggled. “You’d have to have 
cat’s sight to see that in here.” 

“Or you might bring the suspected vase out and ex- 
amine it in the moonlight.” 

“Well, anyway,” pouted Thara, jerking herself up- 
right on the couch, “that’s the way to get your olives 
if you want any.” 

“Oh!” cried the voice of Mary, “the jam cracker 
went on the couch — yes, and jam side down ! Oo-oo !” 

“Well, I snum,” from Pegs, “and my couch, too! 
I’ll be stuck to it to-morrow, so that I can’t get up 
to go to church.” 

“Oh, we’ll bear witness,” it was Julia Talbot who 
spoke. “We’ll write as excuse: ‘Anchored to her 
midnight spread’ — YLtr-choo!” 

“Ow ! There goes my cracker now, best side on the 
rug,” said her roommate. “I’ll bet that sneeze gives 
us away ! Listen !” 

There was a creak out in the hall — the sound of a 
stirring bathrobe, which the night stillness accentuated. 
Pegs, who sat in the stretch of moonlight, put her 


148 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


finger to her lips for silence. — And finally again the 
creak. They knew the loose board was in front of 
Sue Bradford’s door. 

“All clear !’’ whispered Pegs, breathing again. “The 
raid is over — Zeppelins gone! Have another olive 
while they last. But don’t sneeze again, Julia.” 

“Well, I’m about full-up,” whispered Julia. 

“But I’m not,” said the hoarser voice of Spice. “If 
we could only make a little fudge now.” 

“Fudge! That’s the thing,” cried Pegs, while the 
others “shished” her to reduce her voice; then more 
softly, “But I’m sorry. My hospitality does not go to 
the extent of fudge to-night.” 

“I have the chocolate,” said Spice, “but no milk. — 
I have it. I saw Effie putting out the pans of milk 
on the pantry shelf to-night, and maybe — if we got 
just a little — ” 

“You do the fudge honors. Spice,” suggested Fanny 
Kincaid. “Suppose you raid the kitchen for milk.” 

“Not I, said Cock Robin,” objected the white-liv- 
ered Spice, “but — say — suppose we send Mary down. 
She hasn’t contributed anything yet.” 

“And do you suppose I want to contribute my young 
life?” ’plained Mary’s voice. 

“Now, don’t be a coward.” — “And ungenerous.” 

“No, no, no!” squealed Mary, jerking herself free 
of hands that were encouraging her to her feet. “Any- 
way, there’ll be such a smell all over the house, every- 
body’ll know we’re making fudge.” 

• “No, they won’t,” said Pegs, “they’ll think it’s in 
their dreams. Anyway, we’ll shut the transom and 
open the window on this side and the smell will go 


BLACK AND MIDNIGHT DEEDS 14-9 


out. Go ahead, ducky. Get a cup from the pantry. 
You know where the milk pans are.” 

Mary could resist no longer. She was literally 
shoved out of the door and down the hall by tip- 
toeing figures, that followed to see that the deed was 
done. The leader, who was Pegs, dexterously piloted 
the party away from the creaking board at Sue Brad- 
ford’s door and sundry other loose boards. Then they 
followed the quaking Mary down the short, winding 
stairs to the kitchen. 

A low light showed them the lay of the land. 

“Turn the light higher,” whispered Pegs. “See? 
Right on that shelf above the table.” 

“Get a cup! Get a cup!” said Spice. “On the 
pantry shelves!” 

“Some sugar, too, while you are about it,” from 
Julia. 

They had poor Mary jerking uncertainly from one 
direction to another, with conflicting instructions. 
Finally Pegs came to the rescue. 

“Cups on pantry shelf,” she whispered, peeping 
around a comer. 

Mary reached for a cup. 

“Now get on that chair and bring down the milk.” 

They held their breath while Mary mounted the 
chair and, watching the milk in the pan as she moved, 
began to descend with it. 

“Ker-choo!” It was Julia Talbot. 

Mary jumped. She might have lost her equilibrium, 
had it not been that Pegs, in her anxiety, had ventured 
far into the kitchen. Pegs caught the milk pan just 
as it was swaying. But the milk kept on swaying and 


150 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


a big wave jerked out and splashed out all over Pegs’ 
bathrobe and on the floor. 

“That’s what I call a milk bath,” quoth Pegs. 

Down came Mary from the chair, her responsibil- 
ity now going over to another. Pegs turned around 
to scold the reckless Julia who could not capture her 
sneeze, but found the girls had disappeared from the 
stairs and only sundry giggles gave away that they 
had retreated to safer regions, though still on the 
watch. 

What if Julia’s sneeze had awakened Other things 
than echoes! Pegs, too, became panic stricken for a 
moment, and thought discretion the better part of 
valor 1 

Pegs fled, leaving the milk pan again in the hands 
of Mary. 

Mary clutched the pan tightly, her heart still in her 
mouth over the narrow escape. She saw that all but 
she had fled, who like Cassabianca persisted in her 
mission. Deathly silence ! It made her turn and look 
up. At the door she had come in from, leading to Miss 
Cooke’s and Effie’s apartments, stood Effie herself, like 
Lot’s wife turned to salt. Mary might have been a 
statue of marble “Consternation.” 

“I — I — came down for some water,” she stam- 
mered at last. 

“Well, you won’t find it there,” quoth the generally 
soft-spoken Effie. “That’s the milk for breakfast and 
the biscuits, and most of it’s on the floor now.” 

Mary looked about for an answer; but only a smoth- 
ered giggle came from upstairs. 


BLACK AND MIDNIGHT DEEDS 151 


Effie stepped forward to rescue the remainder of 
the milk. 

“This is the way you girls do, the minute Miss 
Cooke’s back is turned.” 

Mary fled, but from the giggles and squeals, Effie 
knew that she had saved the milk from a conspiracy. 


CHAPTER XV 


WRECKED 

“Well, if you aren’t the clumsiest,” scolded Spice, 
as Mary went up. 

“It wasn’t I — it was Julia’s sneeze,” defended Mary, 
while the girls giggled at her abashment. “And you 
left me to get all the blame of it alone.” More giggles. 

“I’m afraid Spice will have to do without her 
fudge to-night,” whispered Pegs, as they went inside 
her dark room again. “Anyway, I think it’s getting 
pretty late. You-uns ought to go to bed.” 

“Well, I don’t go to bed yet,” said Spice decidedly. 
“I’ll have to have something to make up for the fudge 
I might have had but for Mary and Julia. What time 
is it by moonlight?” 

Pegs was taking her little china clock to the window. 

“Eleven-thirty and all’s well — so far. Oh-h ! What 
a wonderful night! Come here by the window and 
take a breath. Isn’t it glorious ?” as the girls crowded 
around her. “Do you know what I’d like to do? — 
I’d like to go snowshoeing around in the moonlight — 
’way up to the top of Greenview Hill !” 

“You know what I’d like to do?” said Mary. “I’d 
like to go coasting down the road.” 

“Why, Mary,” said Spice, “ ’tis not often you get 
such a brilliant idea ! Is it really yours ? — Oh, I mean 
152 


WRECKED 


153 


it! And say, that’s just the very thing! If we had 
our sled now!” 

“Now ?” exclaimed Julia. “Go coasting at eleven- 
thirty?” 

“Well, it isn’t so late in the city,” protested Spice. 

“But this is College,” quoth Pegs, “and good little 
girls are supposed at this minute to be in a horizontal 
position between the sheets.” 

“Then we are committing a crime,” from Fanny. 

“You’ve committed several crimes to-night. Don’t 
stain your soul with any more — to say nothing of the 
jam on my couch cover and rug.” 

“Well,” said Spice, “you seem to be rather particular 
all of a sudden, after getting us into all this. I dare 
you to go out coasting to-night — right now !” 

“That’s an easy dare,” said Julia, “ ’cause where’s 
the sled?” 

“Sled, quotha? Why, Pegs is very resourceful. 
Question: Where can you find a sled when you 
have none?” 

“Oh, keep still,” cried Pegs. “There are two sleds 
down below on the Millers’ front porch. The kids 
leave them there all night. But you have no right to 
tempt me. Go yourself.” 

“I’ll go, if you’ll go,” said Spice. 

“Well, I’m no slacker. I’ll go. What say the rest 
of you?” 

“Not me,” said Mary, visibly backing away. 

“Nor I,” said Fanny, with better English. 

“Well, I’ll go,” decided Julia. 

“But no more sneezes if you do,” commanded Pegs. 

“No,” and Julia laughed. 


154 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Say, little roommate,” said Pegs, turning to Thara. 
“Whose ’ittle darling are you? Do you back your 
’ittle Pegsy?” 

“I suppose I must,” said the loyal Thara. “I’ll love 
the coasting, but, oh, eleven-thirty!” 

“It’s eleven-forty-five by now,” announced Pegs. 
“Well, go on and get some more clothes on, and your 
galoshes. The more you linger, the worse the crime.” 

They vanished, silent and creakless, into the shadows. 
Five minutes later, four silhouettes appeared on the 
road. Two detached themselves from the group and 
went over toward the Miller house. 

There were the sleds, one on top of the other, shaded 
from the bold moonlight by some bare lilac bushes. 
The house was still and lightless. Was there anybody 
sleeping on the first floor? 

“I think we can venture,” whispered Pegs to Spice, 
who followed her. “I’ll go ahead and take the top 
sled off and you be ready when I hand it to you. I’ll — 
Oh, thunder !” A wire in the little front garden, hid- 
den in the coat of snow, tripped her and down she 
went full length, impressing her outline in the snow. 

Spice smothered a laugh with her gloved hand, while 
the two on the road were seen to double up. 

“That’s nice of you,” whispered Pegs. “I think 
you might take the lead sometimes. You always make 
somebody else the goat.” 

“I’m sorry. Pegs, but you were funny.” 

Pegs listened for nothing more, but went on, and 
Spice, avoiding the wire, went close behind. 

Pegs cleared the garden and put a tentative foot on 
the first step of the porch, looking out for danger. 


WRECKED 


155 


meanwhile, in the over-looking front windows. Luck- 
ily these had white shades, which were drawn close 
down. They were safe unless somebody peeped down 
under. 

She steadied her foot on the snowy piazza step and 
mounted on. One feeling hand and a trial lift, and she 
raised the top sled carefully and handed it to Spice. 
That deposited safely in the snow of the garden, she 
raised the other sled, somewhat larger and heavier, and 
with a little more effort handed that to Spice. 

Silently and with no further mishaps they passed out 
upon the road, dragging the sleds to the two waiting 
figures further up. 

“Now, if any one sees us,” said Pegs, “they won’t 
know whose sleds these are nor who we are, either.” 

“It’s no sin for the villagers to go coasting at twelve 
o’clock at night,” said Spice. 

“Twelve is right,” remarked Thara, as the clock on 
Founder’s Hall tower began to strike twelve with in- 
cisive strokes. “Goodness, what a racket it makes! 
Do you suppose that clock will wake up everybody to 
come and look at us ?” 

“Don’t worry,” soothed Pegs, “it rings every night. 
Let’s coast.” 

“May I hitch on behind you. Pegs?” 

“Come on,” said Pegs, sliding forward on the sled. 
“Spice, you take Julia behind you.” 

“Say, I don’t want to wreck this sled with two on.” 

“Well, if that sled is wrecked, it will be your weight 
that wrecked it, you old hippopotamus. — I say, let’s 
go!” 

Off went Pegs’ sled with Thara hitching behind — 


156 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


whizzing down the hill under Pegs’ dexterous steering. 

Spice followed, not quite so dexterously, side-tracked 
a bit, hit a buried stone, and then Julia bumped her off 
the front of her sled. 

“There, I told you you would !’’ as she picked herself 
up and shook the snow out of her coat and skirt. 

Julia giggled. 

“You needn’t laugh,” said Spice. 

“Well, you ought to be glad I didn’t sneeze. Come 
on, we’re wasting precious time. Try again or let me 
steer.” 

“I’ll steer. Get on, if you are going to.” 

They passed Pegs and Thara coming up, and this 
time reached the bridge, where the hill ended, in safety. 

Up and down they went in great glee. 

“Suppose somebody should see us,” said Sarah, look- 
ing around apprehensively. 

“Perish the thought,” quoth Pegs. “But we’re rather 
at the outskirts of things here and the village would 
never care. Say, Thara, I’d like to take a belly-whop- 
per, if you don’t mind giving me your share of the 
sled for a little.” 

“Go ahead, dear. I’ll watch you whopping from 
here.” 

With a run. Pegs flung herself, sled and all, upon the 
snow, jerking the sled to keep the road. 

“Oo-oo! Wasn’t that fine!” squealed Pegs as she 
dragged her sled back. “I only wish I had some one 
to haul my sled back for me.” 

She tried it some more to Spice’s envy. 

“You go like a bird,” said the latter. “I think I’ll 
try one, too.” 


WRECKED 


157 


“Ever done it before, Spice?” asked Pegs. 

“Why, no. But I can, if you can.” 

“Fve done it before, heaps of times, out at grand- 
mother’s. But I shouldn’t try on this road, if I were 
you. You’ll have to steer very carefully not to miss 
the bridge. If you do, good-night !” 

“Don’t you suppose I know that ?” 

“Well,” said Pegs, “it won’t do to know too much.” 

Spice jerked the sled towards her by its rope. She 
took the sled to her bosom and went. True, she hit 
the ground rather clumsily, but still she went, slowly, 
steering the sled successfully to the middle of the 
bridge. 

“Now you see, missy,” she said, as she came back, 
and forthwith became more reckless. 

The third time she went down she said she would 
take a “ripper,” and Pegs cleared the road for her. It 
was a ripper, in more senses than one. 

Down went Spice, her great hulk making the sled 
creak as she landed on it, down the hill at a reckless 
speed. Her steering was a bit erratic and toward the 
foot of the hill the sled commenced to get out of con- 
trol. The girls watched her, breathless, as she swerved 
to the right, going at full speed. 

“Steer to the left!” cried Pegs sharply, raising her 
voice. But Spice could not hear or could not turn her 
sled. 

“Ugh I there she goes over !” 

A rattle and a crash came from the darkness to the 
right of the bridge, as the sled catapulted over the em- 
bankment. Then silence. Pegs came to her senses 
first. 


158 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Come, quick!” she said to the other girls, and, as 
they started to run, she took a belly-whopper on her 
sled to speed through all the sooner. 

Nearing the bridge, she dragged her foot and stopped 
the sled, and hurried over to the edge of the embank- 
ment. There was a dark bundle lying in the snow be- 
low. 

She climbed carefully down the declivity that Spice 
had taken at top speed, headlong. A groan was her 
response. 

“Are you badly hurt. Spice?” as she gently raised her 
head and turned her over. Thara and Julia were there, 
too. '' 

“She must have hit her head,” said Thara. 

Then a sigh and Spice opened her eyes. 

“I — I — must have broken every bone in my body,” 
she said. “I can’t move.” 

She had gone over the embankment in a heap, and 
had landed a few inches of the ice of the brook. 
Near by lay the sled — what was left of it. 

“I hope it isn’t so bad as that,” said Pegs, remember- 
ing Spice’s avoirdupois that might have acted as a 
buffer. “Anyway, I think you smashed every bone in 
the sled.” 

“This is no time to be funny,” groaned Spice. 

“I’m not trying to, honey dear. There, try to get on 
your feet a little if you can.” And after a time the 
numbness and the shock of the fall having passed away, 
the girls helped Spice to her feet and then slowly up 
the embankment. 

“Well, I guess I’m not exactly dead,” said Spice, 
“but I thought I was a goner.” 


WRECKED 


159 


“My, but your face is all cut and bleeding,” said 
Sarah, as they reached the moonlight. 

“And I guess I’m bruised all over and maybe 
internally.” 

“I hope not,” said Pegs. “Come, get on this sled 
and we’ll pull you home.” 

On the front piazza a figure muffled in a shawl was 
waiting for them. It was Effie — Effie, who had not 
gone to sleep since the milk episode; Effie, who had 
heard them steal out and knew they were up to some- 
thing new ; Effie, who had watched over them from the 
front windows of the parlor, to see that no evil befell 
them ; Effie, who went forward to lend a helping hand 
now that it had befallen. 

“Come right in here to Miss Cooke’s room,” said 
Effie, as they led Spice up the steps. “Goodness, you 
have bruised yourself some. Miss Becker,” as they went 
into the light of the hall. 

The girls went as she told them, fear clutching their 
hearts now that they had been found out, and yet glad 
enough that somebody responsible was there to get 
Spice mended. 

“I don’t think you have any bones broken, thank 
fortune,” said Effie after she had put Spice in the 
Morris chair under the drop light and felt her all over. 
“But you have a lot of bruises — My !” 

“Is my face badly scratched ?” 

“It might have been worse,” said Pegs. “Don’t 
think of your beauty, when your head might have been 
dented.” 

“Effie — ” put in Julia tentatively, “we’ve been dread- 
fully bad to-night, haven’t we ?” 


160 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“I should say you have! If Miss Cooke knew it, 
what would she say !” 

“But Miss Cooke won’t know it, will she, Effie 
dear?” pleaded Pegs. 

“Well,” said Effie thoughtfully, applying witch hazel 
liberally to a gauze bandage, “that depends on how 
good you are the rest of the time.” 

“We’ll be good as gold,” assured Pegs, which was 
just what she had told Miss Cooke. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE HEN VICTORIOUS 

Miss Cooke did not return for a week. By that 
time Spice Becker, who was not seriously hurt, was 
pretty well patched up. But it was much harder than 
that to patch up the feelings of the Miller boys when 
they found their sled smashed like an egg-shell under 
the bridge. Spice’s weight had done its work most 
sinisterly. It took all of Pegs’ persuasion to salve 
their hurt feelings, together with relinquishing to the 
boys the title to a beauty of a sled which the village 
store-keeper brought to Journey’s End the following 
Monday. It went to the Miller household under a 
thunder of protest from the Journey’s Enders, and 
nothing but the promise of a prompt duplication of 
the sled (paid for from Pegs’ allowance) could stay 
the storm. 

They had no more wild frolics for a while at 
Journey’s End, principally because there was a week 
crammed with recitations, with not much time to play. 

But the Freshman class elections took place. No, 
there was not a great competition, for Ruth Ham- 
mond had done her work well and those Freshmen 
simply went and staidly voted for her for regular 
President of the Freshman class. Pegs Whiting, who 
threw her weight and votes for Ruth, was rewarded 
with the Vice-Presidency and with it the heading of 
161 


162 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


that all-important Executive Committee. One other 
glory came to Journey’s End — Mary Hubbard was 
made Sergeant-at-Arms, that is, general factotum, 
keeper of order during the meeting, and picker up of 
innumerable scraps of paper from the floor after it was 
over ! Poor Mary ! 

Only one other excitement occurred. On Wednes- 
day the College had the indoor athletic meet at the 
Gymnasium, a sort of examination and exhibition of 
the gymnasium work for the semester, in which the 
four classes competed for points and the Gymnasium 
Faculty were very much in evidence. 

The girls used muscle and grace and much chewing- 
gum. The Sophomores got the points, but the Fresh- 
men caused the sensation of the day, with no less a 
person than — Mary Hubbard! She could climb up 
the long swaying ropes as a cat can up the back fence. 
They raced, Mary, a Sophomore, and two Juniors, 
but Mary passed them like a flash, chewing away on 
a piece of gum to keep her breath, and almost sitting 
on the top of the roof-beams. At least, she would 
have sat there if the Gymnasium instructor had not 
thought it unsafe, and called her down, as an organ- 
grinder does a monkey. 

Mary famous again! Mary’s stock went up one 
hundred per cent in a jump. The College were quick 
to appreciate talent in any direction and kept her 
climbing as long as they could without interfering with 
the other exhibitions. Mary’s friends almost carried 
her on their shoulders to Journey’s End. 

“My dear, my dear,” said Pegs, hugging the breath 
out of her, “and to think- we never dreamed you had 


THE HEN VICTORIOUS 


163 


it in you. How your roommate must appreciate you.” 

“Her roommate would appreciate her more if she 
didn’t attempt to climb trees in her sleep. She nearly 
has me on the floor.” 

“Well, anyway, it was a glorious victory, and some- 
thing Mary ought to be congratulated for. How did 
you ever learn to do it ?” 

“Why, I was raised in the country, you know,” said 
Mary modestly, “and there are apple-trees and things 
there and we’ve always climbed. Besides, father was 
once a sailor.” 

“I see, and you really inherit the gift.” 

And then they remembered, those who had stayed 
over Thanksgiving, those marvelous sea tales of which 
they could not understand the source. 

But the title of the chapter does not apply to this 
performance of Mary’s. For on Thursday came a 
telegram, forwarded from the Dean’s Office, addressed 
to: 


“miss EFFIE HADDEN AND THE GIRLS OF JOURNEYS 
END.” 

And this is what it said : 

“buff ORPINGTONS JUDGED TODAY LADY HAMPDEN 
BLUE RIBBON LORD ELMHURST THIRD 

“CAROLINE COOKE” 

Effie, having opened it while the girls were at reci- 
tations, kept it to be announced at the dinner table. 
The girls opened it with great ceremony and ado. 


164 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Well, three cheers for old Lady Hampden,’’ said 
Lou Gaylord. 

“And I picked her out,” said Pegs. 

“And I lived to name her,” said Thara. 

“But just think of the glory coming to Journey’s 
End !” 

“That hen will live in pink and baby blue the rest 
of her life !” 

“She’s a bird. She really is in many senses !” 

“We’ll have to give her a banquet when she ar- 
rives !” 

“Chicken salad tabooed! Or custard, or sponge 
cake, or anything containing any of Lady Hampden’s 
relatives.” 

“Well, we might give Miss Cooke a reception. 
She’s a peach, really.” 

“Let’s give a barn dance !” This from Thara. 

“Well, of all the brightest things!” It was Pegs’ 
appreciation of her roommate. 

The Committee were duly appointed, with Thara 
as Chairman, and Julia and Pegs. Effie was made 
honorary member, as she would have so much to do 
with the important part of the barn affair — the food. 
Effie received her appointment with a twinkle in her 
eyes — without that twinkle, Effie could never have 
lived so many years with all those rafts of Freshmen 
— and offered to give the best of her ability to make 
the spread a success and to provide eggless and hen- 
less products of the kitchen for consumption. Like- 
wise would she cooperate in keeping them informed as 
to all Miss Cooke’s movements and plans, and she did 
— like a “brick.” 


THE HEN VICTORIOUS 


165 


Miss Cooke was expected to arrive at about five 
o’clock on Saturday afternoon. They would be ready 
to receive her, and the barn dance was to take the 
place of the regular Saturday night dinner. 

There was an air of mystery about the place, and 
everybody had a secret of her own. The Committee 
kept their counsel with a smug smile and would tell 
nothing. There were many trips to the village store 
and returns with queer-looking packages. The barn 
doors were shut and peek-proof. Effie said nothing, 
but smiled — and cooked. Jo Guilford helped her. 

The family had secrets, too. Theirs was the one 
big announcement that was common property — they 
were to dress up as farmers and dairy-people. 

Ye gods! Dress up! Do you know what that 
means in a college of girls? It is the very breath of 
their nostrils. Next to eating things they don’t have 
to — between meals and after — “dressing up” is the 
one joy that is never passed over. And do you 
wonder at the tremendous bustle and flurry that existed 
since 4.30 that afternoon? The day before had been 
spent in hunting up and borrowing the proper make-up 
for their costumes from their friends on the Campus, 
if they themselves happened not to have it. You 
would be surprised at the queer things that find their 
way to college in a girl’s trunk, just on speculation 
that she might some time find them useful. 

There was a fluttering about and a squealing and 
laughing, and the hands of the clock turned all too 
slowly. Five o’clock came but no Miss Cooke, and it 
was not till 5.30 that an advance courier sent out to 
reconnoiter, returned out of breath and reported that 


166 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Miss Cooke had come in on that car and the automo- 
bile wagon was just pulling in. 

With more laughter, the girls trooped out on the 
road, in the falling winter twilight, a band of farmers 
and farmers’ wives arrayed in their best hayfield cos- 
tumes, and the waving and cheering would have 
frightened the automobile had it been a horse. Miss 
Cooke, coming down the walk with her handbag, won- 
dered, too, except that she knew it must be her girls 
out for some sort of a lark. 

“Welcome home! Welcome home. Miss Cooke,” 
they cried. “All hail. Lady Hampden ! All hail. Lord 
Elmhurst !” 

“Well — well— said Miss Cooke, surveying the 
motley group under the stream of the automobile head- 
lights. “I didn’t expect this reception. Words fail 
me. 

“Never mind. Miss Cooke,” said Thara, “we won’t 
ask you for a speech — till later. But you are kindly 
requested — you are requested kindly to go to the barn 
where the birds will be unloaded.” 

“Well — well, what is up?” was all that Miss Cooke 
could say, as the car turned into the road to the bam, 
escorted by the farmer-people. As they drew near, 
the doors of the barn were thrown open and strains of 
music came from the interior. 

What a transformation! The barn had been care- 
fully “policed” by the Committee, and a long table 
made of boards set on packing cases — loaded with 
food, food! on the white table cloth — held the middle 
and main part of the floor, while all around it stood 
boxes of all descriptions, for chairs. Overhead hung 


THE HEN VICTORIOUS 


167 


streamers of crepe paper — red and green, and big bow- 
knots of color on the barn doors and empty horse- 
stalls. One great lamp, that had always been there, 
and two lanterns furnished the light, and up in the 
hayloft, their legs hanging over and swinging with 
the rhythm, played the orchestra, home talent dressed 
in overalls — a violin and two mandolins: 

“I was seeing Nellie ho-o-ome, 

I was seeing Nellie home. 

And ’twas from Aunt Dinah’s quilting party 
I was seeing Nellie home.” 

“The two crates of prize birds will be put on those 
boxes in the stalls at the head of the table, there and 
there, on each side of you. Miss Cooke, if you don’t 
mind,” said Thara, as the driver and his assistant were 
lifting the crates out, with broad grins. 

“Them’s certainly some birds,” commented the 
driver. 

“They certainly are. We appreciate the honor of 
having them as guests.” 

And when the car finally drove away and the great 
doors .were closed upon the festive scene, the smiles 
grew broader and broader all around. For there sat 
pairs of farmer lads and lassies, the lads in overalls 
and jumpers and thick boots (if they were lucky) or 
galoshes, with immense straw hats covering their 
heads ; the lassies in checked gingham dresses and sun- 
bonnets, with pigtails hanging under, and enormous 
red sashes and bows. 

The music ceased. Sarah, at the foot of the table, 
arose as toast-mistress, arrayed in a dress of pink 
gingham topped by a pink sunbonnet that offset her 


168 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


dark hair and pretty face and made her look like a 
beautiful little girl on a calendar. And .thus she 
spoke : 

“This occasion has been — er — gotten up — in honor 
of Lady Hampden, the Queen of the Orpingtons — to 
say nothing of Lord Elmhurst — but ‘ladies first.’ — 
And so we came out here to celebrate, most fittingly, 
the return of the prize birds, and though it is an ante- 
dinner instead of a postprandial speech, we want to 
say, before we do anything else. Long life and glory 
to the Hen Victorious.” 

Miss Cooke smiled and tried to speak, but Pegs, 
sitting nearest her in an all-enveloping pair of over- 
alls, saw that she was tired, and hastened to say: 
“We don’t expect a speech from you. Miss Cooke — 
not yet, anyway, because you must be very tired.” 

“Well” — Miss Cooke laughed — “but I do want to 
say just two words. — Are you dressed warm enough 
to be out in the bam on this cold night?” 

The remark brought down the house, and they 
hastened to assure her that they had sweaters under 
those gingham dresses and jumpers and that there 
were also two oil heaters burning in the barn that 
minute. And then Effie startled Miss Cooke by speak- 
ing suddenly at her shoulder, where she had been all 
the time, and saying she would bring the tea and bis- 
cuits now, if Miss Cooke was ready. 

They all fell to the business before them — an egg- 
less, chicken-less banquet that heaped the festive board. 
The orchestra alone, self-sacrificing persons that they 
were, sat up in the loft, eatless, swinging their legs 
and playing country dances and reels and “Annie 


THE HEN VICTORIOUS 


169 


Laurie” and “Turkey in the Straw” till they were 
ready to drop, so they said. But finally, when Miss 
Cooke insisted, they ordered their meal “sent up to 
them.” 

“We like it up here,” they said, and would not quit 
their loft. 

Of course, everybody wanted to know all about the 
Poultry Show, and to see the blue ribbon, at which 
Miss Cooke smiled and began searching in her hand- 
bag. 

“Lady Hampden has been judged the best hen in the 
country,” she remarked proudly, exhibiting the trophy 
to their admiring gaze, “and I have the first prize 
money and the certificate in my bag.” 

“And how about the cockerel and the pullet?” 

“ ‘William Tell’ and ‘Spring Maid’ won honorable 
mention.” 

“Which is well enough for young things like that,” 
remarked Pegs. 

The supper over and the banquet board having been 
depleted, they pushed away their “box-seats,” dis- 
mantled the table and put the boards on end in the 
stalls. In the hayloft the “fiddlers” started up on 
some Virginia reel music and the party paired off and 
danced and clapped their hands to their hearts’ con- 
tent. 

And the dust ! 

And what do you suppose Their Majesties did all 
this time? To them the antics were mysterious revels. 
Lord Elmhurst looked on the remarkable scene first 
with one eye and then with the other, and made 
guttural remarks to his riiate. She also looked and 


170 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


looked and agreed with him in a soft tone of voice. 
As for the cockerel and the pullet, they saw no sense 
in it at all, and retired early to a perch on the back 
of their cage, opening and shutting their eyes 
sleepily. 

In between the dances Thara sang, and that lovely 
“Annie Laurie” made them sit and dream, enthralled. 

By and by, after some more dancing, there was a 
flutter and a fuss at a side door of the barn and in 
came a Buff Orpington Chanticleer, all done in deep 
yellow crepe paper, surmounted by a big rooster’s head 
left over from some masquerade. 

Chanty mounted a packing-case and did a clog- 
dance, and then a Highland fling, to the great appre- 
ciation of the audience. This was followed by “Loch 
Lomond” from Sarah. 

Miss Cooke had disappeared when the dancing first 
began, for the poor lady was tired from her long trip. 
But, by and by, when the revelers were beginning to 
get exhausted and were willing to sit down a while and 
let the dust settle. Miss Cooke came in again and an- 
nounced that it was past nine o’clock and didn’t they 
think they were tired enough to go to bed? 

They did — but, oh, they’d had a glorious time ! 

“Well, I’m sure Lord Elmhurst and Lady Hampden 
have appreciated the honors heaped upon them. 
They’ve been on a long journey and must now retire.” 

“Shall we help you put them in the coop. Miss 
Cooke ?” asked Pegs, always ready to help. 

“No,” said Miss Cooke, “I think I’ll leave them 
right in here in the crates till morning. They are 
used to them.” 


THE HEN VICTORIOUS 


171 


“Well, Lady Hampden is sure a beauty,” and Pegs 
pressed her face close to the slats. “Why, why — 
girls !” 

Pegs was highly excited. Without so much as a 
by your leave, she intruded upon the privacy of the 
royal pair. She opened the little door in the front 
of the cage and thrust her arm inside. 

And brought out an egg! 

“Look, girls, look,” she cried. “The Crown 
Prince!” 


CHAPTER XVII 

THE WHEREFORE OF JOURNEY’s END 

The next great event in that month of January was 
the lifting of the quarantine. The Christmas vaca- 
tion, instead of increasing the cases of influenza, had 
acted like the dynamiting of buildings in a conflagra- 
tion, and that two weeks, barren of any chance to 
meet or transmit the disease at College, had put a stop 
to it altogether. The sick ones had convalesced and 
those that had contracted it on their vacations had 
stayed home to get well. Moreover, the outside world 
was rapidly recuperating and the disease was forced 
to loosen its hold. 

And so, the quarantine was lifted. It meant trips 
to the City; it meant invitations out of town, unspoiled 
by having to squeeze out permission; it meant — oh, 
it meant visits from the outside world, so long post- 
poned, looked forward to. The Sunday evening after 
the lifting of the quarantine was vesper service, and 
this was seized upon as an excuse for youths from 
everywhere to flood the Campus like a plague of grass- 
hoppers. Unwelcome? Oh, no! The only trouble 
was to find some cozy, protected, as-private-as-possible 
corner in the public rooms of your dormitory for 
yourself and best young man. The matrons were 
overwhelmed with unusual requests for unusual per- 
missions : 


172 


WHEREFORE OF JOURNEY’S END 173 


Diffident steps and soft knock on the matron’s 
door — 

“Mrs. , I have — er — a friend to-night and 

so have one or two more of the girls. Would you 
mind very much if we lit the log fire in the students’ 
parlor and roasted marshmallows ?” 

“H — m,” clearing throat to gain time for thought, 
“why, I have no objections, if you leave things the 
way you found them and are quiet. The last party 
left the fireplace stuck with sweet stuff.” 

“Oh, we’ll be very careful. Thank you.” 

Five minutes later. Another diffident approach and 
knock. 

“Er — Mrs. — , my cousin is here. We’ve 

made some Welsh rabbit and we’d like him to have 
some of it, but we don’t know where to go,” ma- 
neuvering to get permission to have the party in her 
room. 

“Er — h’m — ^you might take him to the reading 
room.” So decided this Solomon of matrons. 

But what was happening in the halls, on the 
Campus, was happening at Journey’s End. All the 
nooks and corners were so occupied that they over- 
flowed and the parties merged into one another and 
had to pool interests, becoming one great party. 

Over at Journey’s End that afternoon. Pegs had 
her cousin Bill from Elmhurst, who had brought a 
clean, pink-faced, sandy-haired, sandy-eyebrowed 
young man with him — Mr. George Stoddard — ^which 
young man appropriated Sarah Thayer’s side and re- 
mained immovable. 

Spice, too, kept a firm-mouthed, dark-haired in- 


174 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


dividual enthralled, and it may be noted that to-day 
she was unusually soft-spoken. Yearning for manly 
company will soften the hardest heart ! 

As for Mary — Mary, most certainly — she occupied 
the hall seat, where all the rubbers and galoshes were 
kept, with a moon- faced youth who could hardly be 
held at arm’s length. 

But do not think that this is the usual state of affairs 
at a girls’ college. Remember that for almost two 
months the flood-gates had been held shut by an ob- 
durate hand, and now, when suddenly they were 
thrown open, in came the tide with a rush, and all at 
once! 

When they got tired of sitting. Bill remarked that 
they were dying to see Lord Elmhurst and Lady 
Hampden whom they had heard so much about. So 
the two couples went. 

“Well, so that’s the old fellow, is it?’’ exclaimed 
Bill, looking over the chicken wire. “Some chest !’’ 

“And some voice,’’ replied Pegs. “He crows in 
the middle of the night sometimes. I wonder what 
his idea is.” 

“Wants to be the first to welcome the rising moon, 
I suppose,” said Bill. 

“Rising moon? Rising wrath! Frances Crane 
lives in the back of the house, and now since the snow 
came on, she prepares snowballs and takes — ” 

“Takes them to bed with her?” 

“No,” laughing, “not exactly to bed — puts them in 
a row outside her window-sill, and you can hear them 
go ‘thud’ on the chicken coop roof when Lord Elm- 
hurst wakes you up to sing in the middle of the 


WHEREFORE OF JOURNEY’S END 175 


iiight. — Ah, there is Lady Hampden just coming out 
of the coop door.” 

“She’s the lady that got the blue ribbon, is she? I 
don’t wonder — and I bet she doesn’t crow about it!” 

“No,” laughed Pegs. “She is very modest.” 

“And what do you think Miss Cooke is going to 
do?” put in Sarah. “She is going to sell her for a 
thousand dollars and give the money to the Endow- 
ment Fund.” 

“Phew ! One thing at a time is all my feeble brain 
will comprehend. One thousand bucks for a hen I” 

“Why not?” 

“Oh, yes. I almost forgot about your Endowment 
Fund since the Flu. Let me see, you are one of the 
thousand and one colleges — ” 

“That will do — quite,” commanded Pegs. “And I 
shall see that you do not forget our Endowment Fund 
hereafter.” 

“I move,” said Sarah, “that all young men wanting 
to visit at Hampden College be made to pay toll at the 
gate.” 

“Bright idea!” quoth the sandy-haired young man. 
“May I come again to-morrow?” 

“Nothing slow about you, Reddy,” said Bill. 
“Don’t let him impose upon you. Miss Thayer; he’s 
a lady-killer.” 

“Oh, Pm not worrying.” 

“Now, Miss Thayer, Bill’s wrong; really he is. 
And I can be very useful. — I tell you what. Miss 
Thayer, some day, if you’ll let me, Pll come over with 
a couple of pairs of snowshoes and we’ll go around 
here and I’ll teach you how to snowshoe.” 


176 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“I told you he was a lady-killer, Miss Thayer,” said 
Bill. “You’ve had fair warning.” 

These two young men stayed for supper that even- 
ing. There was vesper service, as we have said, and 
Pegs found Miss Cooke and got permission to bring 
*her guests. 

“There,” she said joyfully, “Miss Cooke says she 
will make room for you.” 

“That will be jolly,” exclaimed Mr. Stoddard. He 
was looking forward to hearing Thara sing at vespers, 
but he also appreciated the opportunity of being allowed 
to stick a little longer at her side. 

“May I give you some chicken salad, Mr. Stod- 
dard?” asked Miss Cooke as the various couples were 
ranged about the table. “You see it is of our own 
breed.” 

“That is from Class CC, is it not. Miss Cooke?” 
inquired Pegs. 

“Yes, this was a cock that flunked. His rank was 
especially low.” 

“So the stew pots for him,” put in Bill. 

“Exactly,” laughed Miss Cooke; “which points a 
just moral.” 

“But alas, we can’t cook the men who have never 
been useful in life,” put in the Senior-opposite. 

“The truly primitive woman speaks there. Miss 
Gaylord,” remarked Bill, “or are you attempting to be 
Shakespearian ?” 

“Doesn’t it really mean: if you can’t be useful, be 
as useful as you can, or is that a Gallic witticism?” 
asked Miss Cooke. 


WHEREFORE OF JOURNEY’S END 177 


“Which is the motto of Class CC,” quoth Pegs. 

“Speaking of Shakespeare,” said Miss Gaylord, 
“how well do you know your ‘Twelfth Night’?” 

“I’m not a Senior yet,” disclaimed Bill. “And I’ve 
never acted in it. But why ‘Twelfth Night’?” 

“If you did you would know the reason why this 
house was named ‘Journey’s End.’ ” 

“Oh, tell us!” exclaimed Pegs. “We’re dying to 
know.” 

“Shall we tell them. Miss Cooke?” 

“You know you couldn’t resist.” 

The girls wiggled expectantly in their chairs. 

“It was named three years ago, on such an occasion 
as this, while I was Freshman here.” 

“What, Flu then, too?” 

“No, the ‘men.’ Frances Demarest, then a Junior, 
came downstairs to the parlor for something. She 
ran into no less than six couples. 

“ ‘Goodness I’ she cried, ready to run out again. 
‘This is surely “Journey’s End” 1’ 

“We all stared at her blankly. 

“ ‘Why so?’ asked one of the boys. 

“She laughed, stopped at the portieres and looked 
back. 

“ ‘Because, as our old friend Bill Shakespeare says : 

“‘“Trip no further, pretty sweeting. 

Journeys end in lovers’ meeting.” ’ ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE WHITE HORSE, MAUD 

The winter was on full blast. It had waited late, 
but when it came it meant business. The snow that 
had ushered in Christmas had come to stay, and on 
top of it, two or three more snow-storms had added 
their quota, until it looked as though snow were a 
permanent institution. 

On the Wednesday following the visit of the Elm- 
hurst boys, the snow had fallen steadily all morning 
and the girls figured that it would make good snow- 
shoeing in the afternoon when George Stoddard would 
come. But George was coming expressly for Thara 
and had specifically stated that he would bring with 
him two pairs of snowshoes, so Pegs considered her- 
self outside of the joys of the game. For naturally, 
the second pair of snowshoes was meant for the pink 
young man who would thereby attach himself in- 
separably to Thara’s side. Pegs oould hardly expect 
that he would set her on them to paddle around with 
Thara, while he took the shallower snow-paths at a 
distance. Besides, there is something about two be- 
ing company and — 

Therefore Pegs decided to let the two enjoy them- 
selves entirely alone — she knew that the youth, at 
least, would enjoy himself — and hit upon the very fine 
178 


THE WHITE HORSE, MAUD 


179 


idea of going sleigh-riding herself. As the chaperon- 
age of a Senior was necessary to a Freshman, and as 
more than two in a one-horse sleigh was certainly a 
crowd, she invited only Lou Gaylord to accompany 
her, and planned to hire a team for that same Wednes- 
day afternoon. 

The night before. Pegs had interviewed Mr. Noah 
Simpson and he had agreed to send around that very 
docile white mare of his, yclept Maud. Maud must 
have been a sister to Mutt and Jeff, for she had the 
same ease-loving disposition, which made her a safe 
proposition for the girls to drive. Hence, Maud was 
very popular and much in demand at the College. 

It was a beautiful snowstorm that set in, with 
big white flakes that floated about lazily here and 
there before they alighted. All morning they fell so 
thickly that the houses across on the Campus were 
almost obliterated, or were mere shadows looming up 
now and again. As the snow increased toward 
noon. Miss Cooke asked the girls, at lunch, if they 
thought it would be wise to go out driving in such a 
storm. 

“Why, I think it’s perfectly safe,” said Pegs. 
“We’ve driven many a time in such a storm at Prep 
School. It really isn’t a storm, and it’s so jolly to be 
out in it, with the snow falling all around and lighting 
in your hair and coat. It’s the real thing.” 

“I don’t think we’ll have any trouble,” agreed Lou 
Gaylord. “We’ll keep to the road and go on toward 
Elmhurst. It’s perfectly plain to follow.” 

“If the landmarks are not obliterated,” said Miss 
Cooke. “The snowstorm is a particularly thick one.” 


180 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Let us try it, anyway,” persisted Pegs. “We 
won’t go far and if we have any difficulty, we’ll come 
right back. I wouldn’t want to miss it for worlds.” 

After lunch the two girls got out heavy coats, 
sweaters, and furs, and even put on their galoshes. 
It was snowing merrily without, and what a wonder- 
ful time they would have ! Ham was to bring Maud 
around at two o’clock, and there was a prospect of a 
fine long afternoon. 

And then George Stoddard would come with his 
snowshoes and Thara would not be at all alone. 

George did come, and with the snowshoes. Effie 
brought up the message that sent Thara into a flurry 
of prinking. 

“Give him my love,” quoth Pegs, as Thara disap- 
peared down the stairs, giving a final rub to her newly 
powdered nose and a last pat to her brown beaver 
tarn. In a few moments Pegs heard them go out of 
the front door and heard their snow-muffled steps 
down the front piazza. 

“Give me a sleigh-ride in a storm like this, Lou,” 
she said, turning to the Senior, “and I’ll forswear all 
men.” 

“It is certainly wonderful,” breathed Lou, as she 
watched the thick-falling flakes. “But I wonder 
what’s become of that horse and sleigh. It was to 
have been here by two, and it’s way past that now.” 

“I’ll go down and see,” volunteered Pegs. “I wish 
it would come.” And she thumped downstairs in 
her galoshes. 

In another moment she was hallooing to Lou out- 
ride the window. 


THE WHITE HORSE, MAUD 


181 


“Oh, Lom-oo!” she called. “Come on down! The 
sleigh is here!” 

When Lou Gaylord went down, there in front of 
the house, hitched to the wooden post, stood the white 
horse, attached to a sleigh. 

“Here’s Maud,” called Pegs through the snow- 
flakes. “Ham just brought her and hitched her here 
without saying a word.” 

“Stupid — ^just like him! Are you ready to go?” 
asked Lou. “Got everything?” 

“Yes, everything. Only wish we had a thermos 
bottle along with hot coffee in it. It’s getting colder.” 

“Yes, it is,” said Lou. “Let’s muffle up and 
start. — There goes Thara with* her ‘man.’ ” 

“Save the mark !” 

And out in the distance, almost blended out of sight 
in the snowflakes, they could see two figures flounder- 
ing irregularly about. 

They untied the horse and got into the sleigh, throw- 
ing a capacious laprobe around them. Pulling on her 
gauntlets. Pegs took the reins and clucked to the horse. 
Off it started with a jerk that almost threw the girls 
out backwards. 

“Goodness, but she’s spry all of a sudden ! Whoa- 
whup, Maud,” said Pegs. “What’s the matter, old 
gal, been eating monkey-glands ?” 

Lou’s haw-haw only sent her flying faster, but as 
she cut out into the Elmhurst road and seemed to 
know what she was about. Pegs gave her rein, know- 
ing she would soon tire, dragging through the deep 
snow, and come to terms. 

“This sudden celerity on the part of Maud is cer- 


182 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


tainly a revelation,” remarked Lou. “Some people 
surprise you when you least expect it.” 

“Like Mary Hubbard, for instance. I shouldn’t be 
surprised, one of these days, if Mary should turn out 
to be some sort of genius.” 

“Well, I think we’re due for some sort of surprise 
from Mary. She looks to me like a multiple person- 
ality.” 

“A what?” asked Pegs, winding the reins around 
her gauntlets and looking at Lou sidewise. 

“We call it ‘multiple personality’ in Psychology. 
She’s two people — one herself, the other somebody 
else. She has such a queer ‘gone’ look sometimes, 
you are not sure whether she’s there or not.” 

“Poor Mary — she mostly is not. I suppose at those 
times the other personality is. I wonder which is 
worse. What would you say, old psychologist?” 

“We haven’t progressed far enough in ‘Psyche’ to 
find out yet. Some day I’ll take Mary up to the 
laboratory and experiment on her. But my guess is 
that we’ll find her to be either a genius or a murderer.” 

“Good heavens!” 

This exclamation from Pegs was less regarding 
Mary’s outcome than a sudden movement of the 
horse’s head which almost pulled the reins out of her 
hands. Just as they turned round a corner, so to 
speak, in the road, a wind seemed to spring up sud- 
denly that blew across their path and whipped the 
lazy flakes into a fury of scurrying snow. Maud did 
not like it any more than they did. She registered 
her dislike by a yank on the reins. It is one thing to 


THE WHITE HORSE, MAUD 


183 


be comfortably ensconced in coats and furs and 
galoshes in a smooth, swift-moving, one-horse sleigh, 
but it is a far different thing to be that one horse that 
has to drag the same about, knee-deep, with the beat 
of the snow on the only coat Nature gave you. 

“Maud doesn’t like this,” remarked Pegs, lowering 
her head, against the driving of the snow, which was 
now coming finer and biting the face and ears as it 
beat past. 

“Well, I don’t wonder,” replied Lou, pulling her 
cap closer over her face. “I’m thinking maybe she 
has more sense than we have. — Look at her go! 
Better pull her in a bit.” 

“She’s doing some pulling herself,” said Pegs, 
squinting her eyes at the snow. “/ couldn’t hold her 
in. I didn’t think she had the strength.” 

“Mr. Noah must have been feeding her. See how 
broad her shoulders and haunches have grown.” 

“I would if I could open my eyes. How dreadfully 
biting the wind has grown! Perhaps we had better 
stop and turn back.” 

Lou thought so, too, but although they suggested it 
to Maud several times, the word “whoa” seemed not 
to be in her vocabulary any longer. She only plunged 
forward the faster, as though determined to make a 
goal for Elmhurst. 

It might have gone well while going fast, had it 
not been for a particularly vindictive gust of wind. 
There were great drifts in the road now, and one of 
these drifts the wind lifted bodily, just as Maud got 
abreast of it. 


184 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Maud side-stepped in fright, then reared. Her eyes 
flashed and her nostrils dilated in and out. She did 
not stop to see what it was that had risen against her. 
She was putting the miles between her and It. In 
fact, she was running away ! 

Pegs could not check her. Neither could Lou. 
Neither could their combined strength on the reins. 
Commands fell on deaf ears. Coaxings were re- 
dundant. 

“She’ll exhaust herself after a while,” said Pegs, 
out of breath. 

“After she’s exhausted us and turned our hair 
gray. — Whoa! Maud, I say! Whoa!” 

The futility of Lou’s command struck Pegs funny 
and she laughed. Fatal laugh! The demons of 
chance just then hurled another snow-drift across 
Maud’s path. She had been hugging the left of the 
road. This new gust made her veer still more to the 
left — and into the ditch. 

She was in and out again. She merely floundered 
a bit. The girls were in and out, too — out of the 
sleigh. 

Lou landed “soft” and Pegs might have, had she 
not persisted in keeping the reins. She was dragged 
along, the sleigh bouncing on its side, perilously near 
her head. The white horse was not to be stayed. 

When Lou came to the realization of what had hap- 
pened to her, and was ineffectually brushing away the 
snow that filled her neck and face and hair, she re- 
membered Pegs and the sleigh. She stumbled to her 
feet. 

Ten yards away from her they were, plunging ever 


THE WHITE HORSE, MAUD 


185 


forward in a confusion of flying white as they plowed 
away the snow. Maud was not to be halted, and Pegs 
held on to the reins. 

Lou realized what Pegs did not. Pegs must let go ; 
but how to get clear without being hammered as the 
sleigh passed over? And yet, either way there was 
danger. 

“Pegs! Pegs!” she called. “Let go the reins! 
Throw yourself out ! — Pegs, Pegs ! Let go !” 

Pegs did not seem to hear, but Maud did. She 
girded herself for a sprint — and sprinted. She 
bounded forward at Lou’s cries. The reins were 
jerked out of Pegs’ numb hands. The same jerk 
hurled the sleigh to one side. God helps them that 
cannot help themselves. Maud and the sleigh were 
going ad infinitum. 

“Oh, Pegs, Pegs, are you hurt ?” cried Lou, flounder- 
ing toward the still prone figure. She went on her 
knees beside her, and putting her arms around her, 
raised the girl gently. “Are you hurt?” 

Pegs came to herself and sat up, dazed, in a whirl 
of loose hair and hairpins. 

“I — I guess my brains aren’t knocked out,” she 
commented, feeling her disheveled head — “because I 
never had any.” 

“I guess you’re all right,” laughed Lou nervously, 
“if you talk like that.” 

“But as for my hair — where did I leave it?” 

Lou was supremely relieved. She helped to brush 
away the snow that covered Pegs completely and was 
draining down her neck. 

“Goodness ! That Maud literally made me eat 


186 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


snow! I wonder where she has gone to — ^and what 
will Mr. Noah say?” 

“He’ll say we ‘hadn’t oughter have gone.’ But 
don’t worry about that now. Try to get up, and let’s 
see if you have any bones broken.” 

“I think not,” said Pegs, rising painfully. “Thanks 
to the snow. But I ache all over. — That’s just what 
Miss Cooke will say.” 

“That you ache — ” 

“That we shouldn’t have gone. — Look at it snow !” 

They were aware for the first time, as they slowly 
walked back, that the snow was still beating upon 
them and that the wind was driving whirls of snow 
searchingly about them. 

“It is worse than ever. — Here’s my tarn and two 
more hairpins, thank fortune. Maybe my hair will 
stay up now. — What’s this ?” 

“The laprobe, I declare !” said Lou, digging out the 
black thing in the snow-pile. “I think I fell in it. 
That’s why I’m alive.” 

“I feel like one of those lost sheep in the picture,” 
said Pegs, looking about uncertainly. “There is no 
road to be seen.” 

“I think we’re still on it,” reassured Lou. “Let’s 
go on back and so long as we don’t go into a ditch, 
right or left, we know we’re on the road.” 

“Is that higher mathematics ? I never knew before 
that a ditch was such a good compass,” laughed Pegs. 
“But your logic sounds right. And by the same token, 
if we get snowed under, this laprobe will keep us from 
freezing.” 

“You are very lugubrious, dear. Don’t — But let’s 


THE WHITE HORSE, MAUD 


187 


get on. It is past four,” consulting her wrist watch. 
“It has taken us an hour to fly out here, so it will take 
us hours to flounder back. And it will be getting 
dark soon.” 

“It’s a good thing we have our galoshes on,” re- 
marked Pegs, picking up her skirts and plunging along. 
“I think that horse must have a multiple person- 
ality.” 

“Yes, I wonder where she’ll land.” 

“She might freeze to death. — It’s really getting very 
cold, Lou. We’ll need that laprobe yet. Poor Maud 
— ^br-r-rr! She has nothing but the sleigh to wrap 
around her.” 

“She was doing that very successfully when I last 
saw her. — It is cold, though. Let’s get close together 
and put the laprobe around us, over our heads.” 

“The snow is so thick you can’t see ahead of you,” 
said Pegs, as they trudged on again, under the big 
sheltering robe. 

How long they went, they knew not. The white 
waste was as expansive as the North Pole. It grew 
colder and colder and the wind heaped piles of snow 
upon their improvised tent. And darkness came — all 
the sooner because of the pall of cloud and snow that 
overhung the earth. The shapes of the rail fences, 
that loomed up now and then along the road to guide 
them, were becoming undiscernible and they had to 
trust to a tentative foot on the brink of a ditch to tell 
them the way. 

“The Babes in the Woods had nothing on us,” re- 
marked Pegs flippantly. “I wish I had some hot 
cocoa — or some fudge.” 


188 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Thank God for the laprobe, anyway. But if we 
don’t get somewhere soon/’ remarked Lou, “we’ll have 
to dig in and cover ourselves with it.” 

“Goodness, Lou, you’re not weakening, are you? 
That’s the first symptom of freezing to death.” 

“No,” laughed Lou. “But it must be dreadfully 
late. And it’s pitch dark.” 

“Hasn’t your watch a luminous face?” 

“Right you are. My cousin Ed had it in the 
trenches with him. — Half-past five !” 

They looked at each other— or rather in each other’s 
direction — in dismay. 

“Do — do you think we’ll get anywhere?” asked 
Pegs. “Or are we going around in circles ?” 

“Well, we’re not going around in circles — I’m not, 
anyway, for I’ve been on the verge of the ditch on my 
side several times. We’ll get there — if we walk long 
enough.” 

“Oh, for a cup of coffee and one of Effie’s dough- 
nuts !” 

“Or two or three doughnuts, for that matter. I’m 
really hungry!” 

“Don’t let’s talk about it. We might get canni- 
balistic. Br-r-rr I” 

For a while they trudged along in silence and in 
darkness. They had every chance to enjoy a snow- 
storm in all its native wildness. And they did. Now 
and again they stopped to rest, and dropped the lap- 
robe down and let the wind and snow beat upon their 
faces and ears. They were experiencing the grandeur 
of the elements, Lou said. 

“I wonder if we’ve missed the road and got upon 


THE WHITE HORSE, MAUD 


189 


a crossing road. Watt’s Corners ought to be some- 
where near by now,” said Pegs. 

“I don’t think we’ve gone wrong. There is no fork 
on this road till Watt’s Comers. We ought to be near 
it. We’ll go to one of the houses — ” 

“When we get there. — Come, let’s put the laprobe 
over us again and go on. Let’s put on speed. This 
will never do !” 

“I wish we had a sleigh.” 

“No, thank you. — Not so soon after.” 

“Well, I wish we had something — ” 

“If wishes were bicycles, beggars could ride.” 

“They do, nowadays — in autos. It’s the poor 
middle class like us that give them the pennies, who 
can’t afford it.” , 

“Phew, this is warming work !” 

“Speaking of autos, there’s one ahead of us now. 
See its lights ?” said Lou. 

“Wrong you are, old guesser!” cried Pegs in glee, 
dropping the robe and commencing to dance around 
Lou and to hug her. “Don’t you see what that is? 
It’s no searchlight, but a good old New England lamp, 
and in a house. Glory be !” 

And Pegs, quick of perception, was right. The 
light they saw glimmering through the falling snow 
grew larger as they plowed toward it. They discerned 
a little old cottage under its white blanket of snow, and 
a cozy warmth of light issuing from a window. 

They stumbled up the front step and pulled a bell. 
The door opened and the girls tumbled in, together 
with a gust of snow that greeted the old man who 
opened the door for them. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE RESCUE 

Miss Cooke was worried. As the afternoon ad- 
vanced and the wind and beat of the snow grew more 
furious with the fall of twilight, and still Lou and 
Pegs did not return, she was decidedly alarmed. She 
had let them go against her better judgment and now 
what she had feared — well, she hoped and prayed had 
not happened. 

Dinner-time came and still they did not return, and 
when the ringing of the dinner bell brought down a 
responsive clatter of heels on the stairs, the repeated 
questions of investigation brought only surprised looks 
on the faces of the other girls, and negative answers. 

Sarah was worried, too, and so was the youth who 
basked in her radiant presence — when he had time to 
think. But he was staying on for dinner before brav- 
ing the storm again, so he had everything to be happy 
about. 

Inside was warmth and light and hot food, in that 
cheerful dining room. Only now and again came the 
muffled rattle of a clogged window sash, as the wind 
drove sheets of snow against the panes and poked little 
drifts under the crevices. Everybody might have been 
supremely happy had they not been so anxious. Every 
once in a while the laughter would stop and they would 
listen for the sound of hoofs and sleighbells. 

190 


THE RESCUE 


191 


But dinner was over and nothing came. Outside, 
in front of the fire-place in the hall, they held council. 
Something must have happened to the girls, or the 
growing blizzard had driven them indoors somewhere. 
It was decided that Miss Cooke should call up all the 
houses she knew along the Elmhurst Road that had 
telephones and find out if anything had been seen of 
Lou and Pegs. Failing this, a search party would be 
organized, led by George Stoddard and such villagers 
as would go, and George offered his two pairs of snow- 
shoes to the cause. 

Those who were really anxious adjourned to the 
kitchen with Miss Cooke and crowded about the tele- 
phone. 

“No, the girls had not been seen.” 

“No, no sleigh had passed all day going to Elm- 
hurst.” 

“They were too far from the road to see much in 
that storm, but they hadn’t noticed anybody.” 

Finally one house replied, to the prompting of a 
small boy, who had been out building a snow fort by 
the woodshed, that a sleigh with a white horse had 
passed, going “lickety-split.” He thought there was 
nobody in it and that was funny, because going sleighs 
always have somebody in them. Only this one was 
sort of topsy-turvy, and topsy-turvy sleighs couldn’t 
hold anybody. 

“Good heavens !” from George Stoddard, when Miss 
Cooke had hung up the receiver. “I was afraid of it !” 

“Do you think something happened to them ?” asked 
Sarah. 

“Well, the kid said the sleigh was ‘topsy-turvy’ and 


192 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


going ‘lickety-split.’ I’m afraid the horse ran away 
with them.” 

“Oh!” 

“They may be lying injured somewhere on the road, 
or trying to get back,” said Miss Cooke. “This is 
dreadful. We must do something.” 

“That house you called up last. Miss Cooke ?” 

“That is way on toward Elmhurst. If it had only 
happened near some house.” 

“Do you think they are lying injured somewhere?” 
asked Mary. “Perhaps they’ll be snowed under and 
— and be found in the morning in some drift, froz — ” 

“Don’t! Don’t say it!” commanded Spice Becker. 
“What a lugubrious imagination you have sometimes !” 

“That is not beyond possibility,” said Miss Cooke 
solemnly. “This is a blizzard.” 

“I opened the kitchen door a moment ago to put out 
the rubbish,” said Effie, “and the wind nearly knocked 
me over. It drove in such piles of snow, I had to slam 
the door quickly.” 

“This is dreadful, dreadful !” cried Sarah, almost in 
tears. “What shall we do ? What shall we do?” 

“D-d-don’t you worry. Miss Thayer,” George hur- 
ried to assure her, “we will organize a search party 
at once. There are plenty of snowshoes in town and 
plenty of men. And we’ll take lanterns and pocket 
flash-lights. There — I’ll get into my coat at once and 
go over to the village store.” 

“Oh,” put in Spice Becker, “but won’t it be dan- 
gerous for you?” 

“Not when two girls are drifting about alone on 
an open highway, in a driving blizzard.” 


THE RESCUE 


193 


“Mr. Stoddard is right,” commended Miss Cooke, 
“and it’s fine of him to go.” 

“Lou and Pegs might even have been killed,” sug- 
gested Mary tremulously. 

“It is dreadful to think of,” said Miss Cooke, her 
voice shaking. “Come, I am going, too. Mr. Stod- 
dard, wait for me.” 

“Oh, no, no!” protested George. “This is not a 
woman’s job.” 

“Nonsense! I’ve been over some of the steepest 
mountains in Norway, above the snow-line, and a 
little storm like this won’t hinder me. I’ll get into my 
barn-dress and put on that heavy ulster and galoshes. 
And there are skis in the barn.” 

“It’s a driving blizzard. Miss Cooke,” protested 
Effie, putting a restraining hand on Miss Cooke’s shoul- 
der; “you really mustn’t.” 

Nobody doubted Miss Cooke’s rugged ability for a 
moment. It was only the idea of an elderly woman 
going out to face the blinding snow when there were 
men in plenty. 

She waived their objections aside and was telephon- 
ing to Deacon Chase and to Mr. Streeter and other 
ready minute-men. They would be in their boots — 
they would harness a horse to their sleigh — they would 
be ready in five minutes. 

It was with mingled eagerness and misgivings that 
the girls saw Miss Cooke and George Stoddard, all 
muffled, go out of the front door to meet at Mr. 
Streeter’s house on the comer. Shivering, the girls 
stood in a swirl of snow on the piazza or put their 
heads outside of the half-open door and called after 


194 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


the pair that shuffled along. At the top of the street 
appeared lights, and the jingle of sleighbells was 
wafted down on the wind. 

“There’s Deacon Chase! Here he conies with his 
sleigh!” 

“Wait, Miss Cooke! Leave your skis and ride in 
his sleigh !” 

Miss Cooke and George stopped and waved their 
lantern as the steady jog of the sleighbells came nearer 
and nearer. 

“Have some hot tea ready and something to eat, 
Effie,” called back Miss Cooke to Effie, who, drawing 
her little crocheted shawl about her, was cramming 
the windy doorway shoulder to shoulder with Mary 
Hubbard. “We shall need something hot when the 
girls get back.” 

“Yoo-hoo-oo! Yoo-hoo-oo!” The halloo came 
from the approaching sleigh. 

“That you. Deacon Chase ?” called back Miss Cooke. 

“No, it’s Tompkins of Watt’s Comers.” 

“Oh, what brings you here in this storm, Mr. Tomp- 
kins?” exclaimed Miss Cooke. “You haven’t — ” 

“I’m bringin’ somethin’ to yeh!” 

And then they noticed the bundle wrapped in a 
great laprobe and huddled at his left. Which bundle 
detached itself from his side as the sleigh reached the 
place where Miss Cooke and George were standing 
and flew at Miss Cooke in two separate parts and 
hugged her. 

“Why — why — ” exclaimed Miss Cooke in confusion, 
trying to collect her thoughts. “We thought maybe 


THE RESCUE 


195 


you were killed or lost in the storm — What has hap- 
pened ? What has happened ?” 

“Everything! Everything! And Mr. Tompkins 
rescued us like a good Samaritan.” 

“Do come indoors! And Mr. Tompkins, put your 
horse and sleigh in the barn and come in for some- 
thing to eat and drink. Effie !” 

There was great rejoicing and dancing about the 
returned pair. Dancing was not originally a form 
of art. It was an instinct — ^the expression of the joy 
of the soul. And so it was now — a sort of joyful, 
inarticulate dancing around the two girls, who could 
barely kick the snow off their overshoes or shake it 
out of their hair, trying all the while to explain what 
had happened, between hugs. 

Mr. Tompkins went up the road to explain to the 
would-be rescue party that all was well and then re- 
turned to attend to his horse. Miss Cooke was bustling 
between the kitchen and the fire-place in the hall, where 
she laid on more logs of wood. In a few moments Mr. 
Tompkins was pounding the snow off his boots on the 
back steps and Miss Cooke hastened to bring him in 
to the warmth of the fire-place. 

“We really don’t want supper. Miss Cooke,” said 
Pegs. “Mr. Tompkins fed us, like a good angel. Only 
some hot coffee, Effie, for we’re all chilled through 
again. — If only we could give some to your horse, 
Mr. Tompkins.” 

“I’ve fixed him up all right in the barn, with two 
blankets. And I took the liberty of lightin’ the oil 
Stove, Miss Cooke.” 


196 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“It’s quite all right, Mr. Tompkins. — Here’s the cof- 
fee — and then you can tell us what happened to 
you.” 

“Why, Maud saw something and ran away.” 

“Who’s Maud?” questioned George Stoddard, lean- 
ing forward. 

“Why, the white horse Mr. Noah sent over.” 

“With the sleigh? — That wasn’t Maud — that was/ 
Beelzebub.” 

“Well, she acted like it,” said Lou, eyes open in as- 
tonishment. “Mr. Noah said he would send Maud 
around at two o’clock and Ham brought her and 
hitched her outside to the post.” 

“But that was not his horse or sleigh, Miss Gay- 
lord,” persisted George. 

“No,” piped up Mary Hubbard furtively. “I — I — 
Ham told me this morning — I was down cellar in the 
laundry when he came to fix the furnace — He said Mr. 
Noah said — he — he didn’t think he had ought to send 
Maud around to-day, being as he thought it was too 
much like a storm, and you hadn’t ought to go out 
yourselves.” 

“What 1” from the two girls. “Why didn’t you tell 
us?” 

“M forgot.” 

There was too much tragedy in Mary’s tone and in 
her face to do aught but look at her. And they did, 
open-mouthed, for fully two minutes. Then the imp 
of comedy began to tickle their funny-bones. Realiza- 
tion was dawning. 

There was a wild whoop from the girls, joined by 
Mr. Tompkins’ guffaw. 


THE RESCUE 


197 


“Well — well — ” began Pegs. “If the horse we took 
was not Maud, who was it ?” 

“Beelzebub. You ran away with my horse,” said 
George, “and he ran away with you.” 

“Well — well — I snum, as Deacon Chase would have 
said,” exclaimed Pegs. “That accounts for his strength 
and his activity — ” 

“And his gait — and temper — ^and Jekyll and Hyde 
personality.” 

“I wonder — ” put in Pegs, “his second personality 
must be freezing now — the Hyde part of it.” 

“A — pun my word !” and Lou set the crowd laugh- 
ing. 

“But you really were not hurt?” asked Miss Cooke 
anxiously. “No bones broken ?” 

“My head almost was,” laughed Pegs, enjoying her 
own subtle joke. “I thought his Beelzebub Highness 
would have had me scrambled in another minute.” 

“But it’s all over now,” breathed Lou. “ ‘That they 
overwent, this also may I,’ as the old poet says.” 

“Well,” said George. “Now the excitement is over 
and you are safe, I wonder what became of Beelze- 
bub?” 

“He must have left us well on towards Elmhurst, 
if I calculate his speed rightly,” said Lou. “An hour 
longer and we’d have been up at the North Pole.” 

“I — I don’t know what to do,” said the unfortunate 
George. “If you will permit me, Miss Cooke, I’ll 
telephone to the livery stable at Elmhurst. Beelzebub’s 
master is another Beelzebub, and it’s ‘Hail Columbia’ 
for me.” 

They would have liked to hear that tune to which 


198 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


poor George had to dance, but propriety forbade. 
George, however, was so absent-minded as to leave 
the door to the kitchen open, and they could not help 
hearing his part of the conversation. They frankly 
listened. 

“Mr. Smart — Yes, Mr. Smart — ” 

“Yes, this is George Stoddard — ” 

“Well— well— well— ” 


“Oh, he got there?” 


“Well, I can’t help it. Now, now! He ran away 
and nearly broke a girl’s neck. I wish he’d broken his 
own neck. I would have been glad — ^he’s a — a fiend I” 

“Now, now. I’ll pay for the sleigh!” 


“Kindling wood! Well, I said I’d pay — didn’t I? 
Letup!” 

“Now, now ! Don’t do that ! I’ll see the Dean my- 
self. Now, Mr. Smart — Oh, I say ! — ” 

“No, I didn’t have a dickens of a time. I — I — 
Oh, laws!” 

George hung up the receiver with a rattle. 

“But he says I will when I get there,” they heard 
him mutter. 

The girls were giggling when poor George came 
back from the kitchen. 


THE JIESCUE 


199 


“I — I think I’ll have to start for Elmhurst now, 
Miss Cooke. It was so good of you to keep me.” 

“How are you going to get back, son?” asked Mr. 
Tompkins. “On snowshoes?” 

“By train.” 

“My dear boy, there isn’t a car running to get you 
to the train in the first place. And I doubt if there’s 
any train. If you hadn’t a got here by sleigh this 
afternoon, I misdoubt if you could have gotten here all 
day — by train or trolley.” 

“But — but — what shall I do? I’ve got to get 
home.” 

“Not in a roarin’ blizzard.” 

“Certainly he is not going to stir from this house,” 
Miss Cooke burst forth. “Mr. Stoddard, we should 
be pleased to have you remain as a guest at Journey’s 
End.” 

“But — but — This is mighty fine of you. Miss Cooke, 
but how can I accept your invitation?” 

“You can’t do anything else, son. Listen to it go!” 
The wind was shaking shutters heavy with snow, and 
the cold swish still drove intermittently against the 
windows. “If I’d a-known how bad it was. I’d never 
a-come out with these two young ladies to-night. I’d 
a-made them stay at my house. But, bein’ as I had 
no telephone, I just decided to pick ’em up and fetch 
them here, so’s you wouldn’t worry.” 

“Mr. Tompkins, you mustn’t go out again to-night, 
either,” said Miss Cooke. It was most comfortable 
indoors and even Buff had come and joined the group 
around the fire-place, claiming his mistress’ lap as the 
most comfortable place in all the house. “Would your 


200 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


family worry if you didn’t go back in this storm? 
You really must stay.” 

“Well, I don’t know’s they will. I told ’em I might 
put up in the village, if it snowed too bad, and start 
back in the morning.” 

“There, there, nothing could be better. You and 
Mr. Stoddard shall have my rooms — ^there’s the bed 
for you, Mr. Tompkins, and the couch in my study I’ll 
make up for Mr. Stoddard.” 

“But you, Miss Cooke?” protested Mr. Tompkins. 

“There’s a spare room upstairs I always take when 
there’s company. Come, you go and unharness your 
horse, Mr. Tompkins, and put him up for the night in 
one of the stalls. It hasn’t been occupied since I 
sold Frank five years ago, but there’s straw there and 
new oats, and everything you want.” 

“Oh, but. Miss Cooke, this is too much for you,” 
protested George. “I feel as if I’m intruding. I can’t 
put you to all this discomfort. And b-besides, I don’t 
know if it’s qu-qu-quite the thing for me to stay in 
a girls’ d-d-dormitory.” George’s face was as red as 
the fire. He — ^he had to say it, and before all those 
girls, too! The next moment peals of laughter made 
him drop his face in confusion. 

“I’m enough chaperon for you, son,” put in Mr. 
Tompkins. “I’m sure I have no objections to the 
young ladies. — ^Thank you. Miss Cooke. I certainly 
will accept your hospitality most gladly. I’ll go out 
now and put up my horse for the night. It’s lucky 
for me you have such a fine barn. But I hate to drive 
you out of your comfortable bed.” 

“There’s only one who has any objection, Mr. 


THE RESCUE 


201 


Tompkins,” said Miss Cooke, rising, the big yellow 
cat in her arms, “and that is Buff. There’s a par- 
ticular spot on my bed that he insists on as his own. 
He hates the room upstairs — But he’s a good sport, Mr. 
Tompkins. — ^Aren’t you, boy?” And dropping him 
into Pegs’ lap. Miss Cooke went toward her own 
apartments to get the beds ready. 

“Well — ^well — ” said George, scratching his pale 
yellow hair, “I — I think I’ll telephone home to my 
roommate now, or Bill won’t know what happened.” 

And then they heard him get Elmhurst and call 
for Bill Stevens. 

“Oh— hello!” 


“Hello— yes, old boy.” 


“I’m perfectly safe. I’m not killed. I’ll explain.” 


“Sorry I worried you so when the horse came back.” 


“I’m snowbound at Hampden College, and Miss 
Cooke insisted on my staying here to-night.” 


“Yes, Journey’s End.” 


“Quit your laughing, Bill, it’s no joke.” 

“Say, listen for a minute ! I want you to telephone 
to the Dean and tell him I’m held up at Hampden, 
and that they want me to stay with them till the roads 
are clear to get back.” 


202 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“It’s a fearful blizzard out. Ever see anything like 
it?” 


“Quit your fooling and listen before we’re cut off. — 
Somebody borrowed my sleigh and Beelzebub, and his 
Highness Beelzebub ran away and dumped them — ” 


“Sure ! That’s the honest truth ! And then Beelze- 
bub hiked it all the way home to Elmhurst with bits 
of the sleigh clinging to the harness.” 

“Yes, I know he is — Smart’s as mad as a hornet. 
Tell the Dean before he does.” 


“Oh, I know — I know. I’ll explain all that when 
I see you. — Go on now, and call up the Doc, like a 
good boy.” 


“I know what’ll happen if Smart gets his ear first. 
Ugh, I’m in for it anyway!” 


“No, I wasn’t killed I But, oh, laws, I will be when 
I get back!” 


CHAPTER XX 

SNOWBOUND 

Snowbound! What a wonderful feeling of being 
cut off from the rest of the world by flying snow — 
with barely enough food in the house to carry you 
along safely ; of other houses being in a similar pre- 
dicament, each having to make the best of it, a lone 
unit. 

The next morning the College awoke to such a 
state of affairs. All around it was white and silent, 
with only the swirl of the wind and snow. But there 
were broad smiles at breakfast, and not a “grind” 
could be found unhuman enough to lament the fact 
that there could be no recitations that day. For the 
President’s secretary had telephoned the news to every 
house during the breakfast hour. 

Journey’s End, too, received the message. There 
was almost a war-dance! 

Mr. Tompkins was up and doing very early. After 
hitching his horse and partaking of the hot breakfast 
Effie had laid out for him on the kitchen table, he 
started back to his own home “to dig them out,” so 
he said, telling the still disheveled George Stoddard 
that he would be back for him as soon as it “let up” 
and would take him down to the railroad station. 

There was an air of Sunday about the house. 
Breakfast was eaten leisurely and the fire in the hall 
203 


204 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


was lighted. Ham did not come to attend the furnace 
or feed the chickens, so George volunteered his services 
at shaking the fire and coaling it. Out in the back- 
yard Pegs, Thara, Mary and Julia, closely wrapped 
in mufflers and coats and wearing galoshes, took turns 
at a snow shovel and a coal shovel, making a path for 
Effie and Miss Cooke to reach the bam and the hen- 
coops. Not that the snow “stayed put”; it almost at 
once drifted to the very spot from which*it had just 
been so laboriously removed! But at last there was 
a fair semblance of a pathway. The girls realized that 
chickens as well as people have to be fed, and they 
couldn’t see either Effie or Miss Cooke making it in 
either skis or snowshoes, although the latter assured 
them that she had used them in Norway. It wouldn’t 
be quite dignified for a house-mother, thought Pegs — 
and Pegs was an authority on dignity ! — to feed chick- 
ens in that way ! Sport was another thing ! 

Toward eleven o’clock the wind suddenly dropped 
and the snow eased off. Those who had been grouped 
around the piano trying the latest dances hurried to 
the window at a call. The girls pointed to the scene 
which was very lovely. Across lay the Campus, build- 
ings, trees and wires snow-laden. The grove beyond 
Science Hall was a white canopy of piled-up snow, 
and the bushes and fir-trees assumed every form of 
snow-sculptured art. 

“What beautiful pictures nature can paint with 
never the least effort I” breathed Thara, the emotional. 

“I think I’ll go and get my camera and snap it,” 
answered Pegs, the practical. “Such pictures don’t 


SNOWBOUND 


205 


last forever.” And she went indoors for her kodak. 

The crowd came out with her, ready to have their 
pictures taken, and Spice insisted on posing in George 
Stoddard’s snowshoes. 

“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Julia, as they 
were stepping out. “It’s freezing !” 

Sure enough, the last of the snow that had been 
falling was soft and wet, practically sleet. As it 
touched the other snow it froze, so that a glistening 
coat was beginning to glitter and cover everything. 

“Well — ” exclaimed George, “I see my finish! If 
the snow packs before they can sweep it off the tracks, 
swell chance I’ll have of getting home.” 

“Oh, well,” said Pegs, “I should think you’d be 
entertained with our aviary.” 

“What do you mean?” queried Spice laughingly. 
“Our Sarah and her singing?” 

“No,” drawled Mary, most seriously, “she must 
mean our singing of jazz music.” 

“Who said you were the wit of this party?” de- 
manded Spice. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” 

“You never think, anyway,” said Julia. 

“Let’s change the subject,” broke in Pegs. “The 
atmosphere is getting involved. I think it will pack, 
and we can have some glorious fun, coasting and all 
sorts of things — to say nothing of sleighrides.” 

“I’d say nothing about sleighrides if I were you,” 
said Julia. 

“I didn’t mean that kind of sleighride. But surely 
we can have skiing, snowshoeing, and coasting. — Oh, 
bully!” 


206 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Who’s that waddling across the Campus on snow- 
shoes ?” asked Thara. “Looks like Fanny Ward. Saw 
her once before on the things. She does waddle ex- 
actly like an overgrown duck. It’s her gait, all right.” 

“I didn’t know any one could retain their individual 
gait on snowshoes,” said Julia. “But it is Fanny 
Ward. She’s coming here.” 

Fanny Ward was the president of the Students’ 
League and by far the most popular girl in the Col- 
lege. Incidentally she was a great athlete and could 
outrun and out jump any one, and had given three 
championships and two sprained ankles to the cause. 
She was now coming along the top of the snow with 
slow, measured tread, followed by a satellite Fresh- 
man who had blessed her luck in possessing a pair of 
good snowshoes since they gave her a chance of joining 
Fanny Ward in her hobby. 

“Is Miss Cooke in?” called Fanny, as she drew 
near. “I suppose I hardly need ask,” she added. 

“You’ll find her in the barn,” answered Pegs, who 
had just snapped the noted Senior. “Thanks for pos- 
ing for me.” 

“Don’t mention it. — Better all get to practicing for 
the Carnival.” 

“Carnival ?” 

“Snow Carnival. Next Saturday. You’ll see it 
posted on the bulletin board in the post office. Under 
the auspices of the Athletic Association. Snowshoe, 
ski, and other races, a wonderful parade and a grand 
snow-fight of the Odds against the Evens. Go down 
to the post office, somebody with snowshoes, and get 
the details.” 


SNOWBOUND 


207 


Fanny Ward was out of breath by the time she 
reached the barn, but her voice could still be heard 
as she turned the corner. 

Perhaps a terrific snowfall is not very conducive to 
recitations especially when the paths cannot be cleared, 
but certainly when it has stopped after word has gone 
out that there are no classes, it does contribute to the 
finest possible holiday. And this particular holiday 
was dedicated to practice for the Carnival. The girls 
left their cozy corners and their hugging of the big 
log fires in the various student houses and went out 
into the living air. 

All over the Campus they were hastily organized by 
classes into teams and under a good pitching leader 
were doing “target practice.” And individual girls 
could be seen practicing energetically against sides of 
houses, barns and what not. 

At Journey’s End they were most energetic. Mr. 
Tompkins had come after luncheon with word that 
the road had been dug out and trains were running, so 
George Stoddard could have no further excuse for 
staying, although he was so helpful with advice on 
the Carnival contest that they were all loath to have 
him go. The College workmen had cut a path to them 
with the snowplow, and delegations of Juniors and 
Freshmen from other houses kept coming up. 

“The Odd classes must win, girls! They must!” 
commanded one excited Junior, Nancy Larkin, who 
was official cheer leader and had been a one-time fa- 
mous “south-paw” pitcher for her class baseball team. 
“Come on with me; I’ll show you.” And out they 


208 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


all hied for the side of the barn, which she had sug- 
gested. 

“Ugh! We can do better than that,” said Pegs. 
“Let’s aim at a star, rather.” 

“What have you been reading?” asked Spice. “Miss 
Larkin means to put a target there.” 

“And everybody will draw prizes— -even booby 
prizes. No! No!” 

Miss Cooke, who happened to be passing, put her 
veto on the side of the barn, too, for she feared that 
the thud of the balls might disturb her chickens, be- 
sides doing no end of other damage. 

“So there !” cried Pegs. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s 
make a snowman and lam him with snowballs.” 

Which they proceeded at once to do, as scientifically 
as their varied natures would permit them. 

“I say,” said Pegs, after she had managed to hit 
the snowman several times in succession, “this is no 
fun. Nobody waits to be snowballed. They dodge and 
duck and run. Let’s have a moving target the way 
they do in the Navy.” 

“What do you mean?” from Nan Larkin. 

“Somebody runs and the rest try to hit her while 
moving.” 

“Great!” approved the Junior. “Go on. Pegs, you 
take command.” 

“Fine thing!” seconded Spice. “Here, Mary, you 
be the moving target !” 

“No, sir ! ! I don’t want to be any ‘moving target’ !” 

“Aw, Mary, have some patriotism,” pleaded Pegs. 
“How can we win if we don’t have a ‘moving target’ ? 


SNOWBOUND 


209 


Do you suppose the Evens are going to stand and let 
us hit them?” 

“Don’t be a coward, Mary,” from Julia. 

“What’s the matter with some more moving tar- 
gets? Several of ’em. There’s more than one Even.” 

“Oh, well, we will be later,” said Spice. “Get ready 
when we say ‘go’!” 

“Just one minute,” said Pegs, who saw justly some- 
times when the others failed. “Do you suppose the 
Evens are going to let us hit them without hitting 
back? Mary gets a handicap of ten snowballs while 
we make ours one at a time.” 

“That’s only fair,” said Thara. 

“Well, I’m willing,” said Mary, and proceeded to 
get her ammunition together. 

There was a twinkle of mischief in her eye as she 
picked up the snowballs on her arm. 

“Go!” 

Mary went. She ducked the volley that came after 
her and most of the balls went wild. On her own 
part, she let fly her snowballs while the others were 
stopping to make more, and in the solid phalanx that 
confronted her she registered three hits. 

“Good for the target!” shouted Pegs, shaking the 
snow out of her neck. 

“Who is the target, did you say?” protested Spice, 
who being a broad target, could hardly be missed. “I 
don’t like snow in my mouth.” 

“Be a sport. Spice,” said Pegs. “Mary is a good 
pitcher, I guess. I’ll tell you what we’ll do for the 
snowball fight. We’ll send out a decoy, like Mary, 


210 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


close up to their line, with a bunch of snowballs. That 
will draw their fire on one, and maybe she will go 
down a martyr. Meanwhile the rest of us will get 
closer and let fly. While they’re bunched up, you 
are bound to hit some one. We’ll keep a scattered 
formation and we’ll stand less chance of being hit. 
And you know, once you’re hit, you’re down and out.” 

Pegs was a keen observer and quick to note why 
Mary had scored a victory. Inadvertently, too, she 
subconsciously recalled things she had read of mass 
formation during the late war, and she was quick to 
make the best practical use of any ideas that came 
her way. 

“You’ll do,” said Nan Larkin. “I guess I’ll go on 
the Campus and pass on your idea to the Odds. Keep 
it dark, though. We ought to win. We must! — So 
long. Don’t forget the Grand Procession. Want to 
make up your minds about the costumes.” 

They forgot nothing. 


CHAPTER XXI 


.THE SNOW CARNIVAL 

The rest of that day and the next there were prepa- 
rations, and whispered debates in corners, and practice 
of all sorts all over the Campus. Every house had 
a secret from every other — what they were going to 
do and to be in the Grand Procession. Recitations? 
Why, yes, of course, and there was studying, too. 
But there was still time in between and at all sorts of 
odd intervals to plan and to discuss, and borrow — such 
curious things! 

More than that there was time for real sport. Down 
the “bracket man’s hill” there was great coasting, for 
the snow had packed and made a glorious road. All 
sorts of sleds and bobs made their appearance, and that 
“belly whopper” flying down was just as apt to be a 
College girl as a village boy. Coasting knew neither 
caste nor sex. The village was out, and so was the 
College. 

Back on Pageant Hill, beyond the grove, however, 
there was -a different kind of coasting — the sport of 
the more venturesome. Out here appeared dustpans, 
brooms, barrel staves, serving trays and clothes baskets 
from the cellar. 

Have you ever tried these vehicles in coasting down 
a hill? You just gather your skirts about you, and 
make yourself as small as possible to fit on the pre- 
211 


212 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


carious seat. You clutch the small handle of the dust- 
pan, or whatever the thing is, take a long breath, 
and away you go ! You may finish the slide success- 
fully; you may land half way, on top of your vehicle 
which has made some queer and sudden turn-about; 
or the landing may not be at all graceful or present- 
able. You have aimed at a star, as Pegs might have 
said, and you have gotten there upside down. And 
there is the glory of recklessness tugging at your heart 
and making your breath come the faster, especially if 
you knew that the matron of the house must have 
missed her dustpan by the time you returned, and that 
she must be avoided somehow by sneaking in the back 
way through the cellar. 

Saturday was a beautiful sunshiny day, with just 
enough of sharpness and bite of real winter in the air to 
give zest. Over at Journey’s End most of the Fresh- 
men were free in the afternoon, and after lunch found 
them running around the hall and in and out of one 
another’s rooms in peculiar costumes. Scissors were 
requisitioned, and needle and thread, and there were 
many visits to the barn. 

But no one was let behind the scenes. There was 
a big NO ADMITTANCE sign on the big doors. 
And who are we to wander in where we are not 
wanted ? 

Four o’clock and the call of a bugle ! 

Was it a bugle? Some peculiar clarion call, to 
which was later added another noise that was char- 
acterized by some one as “a cross between Scotch bag- 
pipes and a Chinese orchestra.” 


THE SNOW CARNIVAL 


213 


“They are coming! They are coming!” cried some 
village children who had lined up to see the fun. 

“They are starting from Potter Hall,” said Effie 
to Jo Guilford who was standing beside her. 

“I think the girls said they would come to Journey’s 
End first,” added Jo. 

They came. The Bearskin Zouaves (sic) — ^that 
made up the band. A sturdy sixteen in blue gymnas- 
ium bloomers buckled into galoshes, sport coats of dark 
color, and topped by black fuzzy muffs that were tied 
to their heads by chin straps. Nor must we forget 
to mention the broad crepe paper sashes of red, white 
and blue. Music? Yes, music from an orchestra of 
disguised ukuleles, chafing dish covers, tin basins, 
combs, and a couple of kitchen funnels for horns. 
Did these blow ? Most lustily. For these were trained 
musicians and they knew the potency of such articles 
when a piece of tissue paper has been put over the 
small end to blow through. 

The village boys attached themselves to the band 
and danced along beside them. They were appre- 
ciated ! 

They played “Hail Columbia” alternating with 
“Over There!” 

Behind the band followed the Snow Queen, a jewel 
in white, enthroned among a huge pile of furs on 
Mr. Noah’s one-hoss sleigh, drawn this time by the 
bona fide Maud. The snow-white horse, caparisoned 
in a white bed-sheet spangled with silver stars, nodded 
her head considerably in her efforts to dislodge some 
silver decorations that bobbed ticklishly around her 
nose. The fair Queen very democratically drove her- 


214 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


self, and threw kisses to the applause that increased 
at every step. 

Behind her, a little to the right and to the left, rode 
the King of Spades and the Jack of Hearts, situated 
on Mutt and Jeff. The two latter worthies were in- 
sensible to the honors heaped upon them. They did 
not like the band, and showed it plainly, by constantly 
side-stepping and balking. When, at a particularly 
thunderous climax Jeff actually reared, so that the 
King nearly lost balance and his dignity, the two were 
demoted and made to take a place far in the rear. 

Behind this pair there were six pairs of snowmen, 
thus concluding the Queen’s escort. Snowmen ? Why, 
of course. An old bed-sheet tied around the neck and 
head and body and shoulders, stuffed irregularly with 
clothes and papers. Dark spots for coal blackened in 
with charcoal or shoeblacking, with holes to see and 
slits to breathe through. They made particularly sturdy 
snowmen, carrying, as their weapons, snow shovels. 

This was Potter Hall’s contribution. 

As they drew near Journey’s End the barn doors 
swung open and a wonderful menagerie issued forth : 
a gray elephant with measured tread, trunk swaying, 
and tail wiggling, yet who, in spite of his many ele- 
phantine perfections, almost broke in two; a bur- 
lapped camel with two huge humps; a cinnamon bear, 
led along by an Alpine climber (her hide had come 
out of Miss Cooke’s closet, having been a present 
of long ago. That there were moth-eaten spots 
mattered not at all.) Two mammoth Buff Orpingtons 
followed, with huge blue ribbons hanging from their 
necks, labeled “Lord Elmhurst” and “Lady Hampden.” 


THE SNOW CARNIVAL 


216 


The latter also bore a sign: “For Sale. $1,000, for 
the Endowment Fund.” At the end of that contin- 
gent, Mary Hubbard bearing a sign on a broom-stick : 
“Our Goat should have been here, but somebody got 
it. So I’ll be it.” 

Amid applause from the village houses, the stores 
and the post office and the parsonage they started forth. 
At Petersen Hall they were joined by George Wash- 
ington crossing the Delaware on a bob-sled, accompa- 
nied by four rowers and a flag, a bizarre concoction 
drawn by eight liveried Colonials in powdered wigs. It 
was later admitted that a bob-sled did not exactly figure 
in the Delaware episode, but then, it was, as they said, 
in the nature of a “float.” There was a regular escort 
of more Colonials in powdered wigs who went on foot. 

The next hall contributed twenty raving Bolsheviki, 
mostly whiskers, rags and inarticulate sounds. How 
they had passed the immigration literacy test is a won- 
der. But they did know enough to complain with 
conditions as they found them, for a sign at their head 
bore the legend, “You made us what we are to-day.” 
This group was followed by another of equal size in 
the guise of angels with flowing white whiskers, white 
robes and harps, singing hymnal music. The sign be- 
fore this group read: “As we really are; Heaven is 
our home.” 

The most notable contribution that joined the line 
was another float on a bob-sled— a forlorn figure in 
black with neck bared, was kneeling, about to be be- 
headed on a soap box, like Mary, Queen of Scots, 
by a menacing figure in red that stood over her, wield- 
ing Stafford Hall’s wood ax. That none might 


216 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


flounder for lack of political acumen, the kneeling fig- 
ure was labeled “THE TREATY” and the menacing 
figure “SENATE.” Ahead went the sign, carried by 
one purporting to be President Wilson, “Help me save 
the Treaty!” and back of the float came a group of 
College Faculty, headed by the College President, 
bearing the sign, “We will help you, Woodrow.” 

This section created the sensation of the day. For 
if the individuals of the Faculty represented there 
had never before realized their precise personal idiosyn- 
crasies, they now had a chance to see themselves in 
the eyes of their students. The caricatures were gen- 
erous in many ways. 

Students laughed in high glee. Faculty members at 
the side applauded when they found their counterfeits. 
Even the blase moving picture men who had gotten 
wind of the proceedings maneuvered for good positions 
and clicked the shutters of their machines with broad 
grins on their faces. 

The College President herself was no less apprecia- 
tive, and as the end of the procession arrived at the top 
of Pageant Hill, and finally dispersed, she sought out 
her double and made her sit on the bench beside her. 

Pageant Hill is the slope, where, in the green spring- 
time sit spectators to watch the May Day pageant and 
outdoor dramatics that are performed below. Now it 
was covered with snow, worn smooth and hard by the 
illicit coasting parties of dustpans and brooms. Here 
the contests were to take place and interested spectators 
arranged themselves on benches at the sides to watch. 

There was a short business-like speech by Ruth Bald- 
win, a Junior, who was a manager of the Carnival, 


THE SNOW CARNIVAL 


217 


and who enumerated the events and gave directions to 
contestants and public. And then the whistle blew 
for the first race. 

It was the beloved coast down the hill the girls knew 
so well. Each class supplied four contestants on four 
kinds of vehicles, to wit, dustpans, baskets, barrel 
staves and brooms, each kind racing separately. Two 
Juniors won on dustpan and broom respectively, a 
Senior in the basket and a Freshman on the barrel 
stave. This was but in the nature of a preliminary. 
For again the winners had to get back on the mark and 
fight for the supremacy now of the vehicle itself. The 
broom was from the start considered a lost cause, as 
it was too rough for speed, so the Juniors cheered 
their dustpan. The Sophomores, who had no winner 
of their own to cheer, joined with the Seniors in speed- 
ing their basket. Only the Freshman with the barrel 
stave remained unencouraged. Suddenly Nan Larkin 
noted the situation. 

“Go it. Freshman!” she cried. “You’ve every chance 
in the world. Q> it.” 

The Freshman grinned. She had every intention of 
“going it.” 

With a shrill of the whistle they were off. 

The broom lagged behind, the dustpan passed it and 
became entangled in the softer snow. But the basket 
shot ahead, being long and narrow, and having some 
sort of wooden runners underneath. The race lay 
between it and the barrel stave. Perched on her barrel 
stave with her skirts picked up all around her and 
holding tight to the end of her board for balance and 
sticking purposes, the Freshman just skimmed over 


218 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


the top, not too dignified a sight. But lowliness 
hath its virtues, for the basket ran itself out in the 
deeper snow, while the barrel stave, which was 
ski-like in nature and frictionless, skimmed past and 
beyond ! 

Then followed a “chariot race,” the teams consist- 
ing of one on skis driving a span of three on snow- 
shoes. They followed the line of the drive for their 
oval, but disaster came at the turning point. Three 
teams upset and became hopelessly entangled. And 
so a slow but sure Junior team found a chance to 
pick its way and pass on to victory. 

Followed a complicated obstacle race in relays. 
After a snowy roll part way down hill, the contestants 
put on snowshoes waiting there for them, took off 
their sweaters and put them in suitcases standing there, 
seized the suitcases and made their way to an ex- 
crescence farther down the hill. There waiting team- 
mates put on the snowshoes, seized the suitcases, ran 
up the hill again, opened the suitcases, took out the 
sweaters and put them on, took off the snowshoes, 
dropped the suitcases and ran on foot to the top of 
the hill. There another set of team-mates received 
the again doffed sweaters and started the roll down 
hill again. Repeated three times. It brought roars 
of laughter from the spectators, for to them the rapid 
exchange of snowshoes, suitcases and sweaters be- 
came hopelessly mixed. But somebody won the race. 
It was the Junior team. 

Next, another relay race, not quite so comical with 
a slide on skis going down and a run on snowshoes 
coming up. This was won by the Sophomores. They 


THE SNOW CARNIVAL 


219 


could not have been happy had they not won some- 
thing. 

Ski racing for form which followed next was the 
prettiest and most serious contest. Even the begin- 
ners on skis did well, and sped down the hill in short 
order. The Judge awarded the contest to the Senior 
racer. 

The Juniors were five points ahead, with one race 
extra to their credit. Could the big snow battle, which 
came next and netted ten points to each pair of win- 
ners, wipe out this margin or would they add ten more 
points to the five by which the Odds were now 
ahead ? The Freshmen nodded their heads sagaciously. 
The Juniors smiled back with confidence. 

They all adjourned to the South Campus back of 
the Storey recitation hall for the snow-fight between 
the Odd and Even classes. Two snow forts and lines 
of trenches had been erected, bearing the colors of 
the two opposing garrisons. The patriotic call for 
forces had brought a hundred to a side, fifty of each 
class, for it was agreed that this even representation 
was the fairer way. Each person hit was a casualty 
and had to fall down, to be picked up by the Ambulance 
Corps waiting on the side with stretchers from the 
Infirmary and other first aid equipment. 

“The side which has the largest number standing at 
the end wins,” announced Ruth Baldwin. “In fact, 
you are expected to figure to the last man, so that only 
one side will have any man up — unless the sides are 
so well matched they stand and fall together. When 
the whistle blows, it’s Go! — Attention! Ammuni- 
tion ready ! Go !” 


220 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


They went! At first the throwing was indiscrimi- 
nate, resulting in wild excitement and few casualties. 

Then the Generals succeeded in rallying their men. 

“Even classes! Even classes! Take careful aim! 
Never mind anything else,” they whispered behind 
their bulwark during a breathing interval. 

“Odd Years! Remember instructions. Decoy ma- 
neuver next ! ‘Target’ is the word.” 

Whistle again. The sides approached each other 
cautiously and came quite near. The Journey’s End 
detachment were further down the right of their side, 
Pegs captain. A crowd of Sophomores were edging 
up on the qui vive to let fly. 

“ ‘Target’ !” whispered Pegs. 

Thara Thayer, who could not have hit the bam 
door, advanced, the chosen sacrifice. She made a 
dash for the opposing side. Finding a good mark 
the Sophomores let fly their snowballs, and Thara 
fell under a heap of twenty. 

But, oh, the ensuing slaughter. The disarmed twenty, 
stooping to make more ammunition, fell under the 
Journey’s End onslaught. Being at close quarters 
the Freshmen never missed. 

The Even line gasped in horror to see their left 
wing go down. Suddenly a detachment in the center 
went down in a similar way. When the whistle blew 
for a rest there were big gaps in their line. The Am- 
bulance Corps had their hands full. A frenzied con- 
ference of their leaders fathomed the strategy. 

“Beware the decoy!” was the new order. “Don’t 
aim at it!” 


THE SNOW CARNIVAL 


221 


The next contest, therefore, witnessed very careful 
throwing and few casualties. The Evens once bitten 
twice shy. Pegs sought out Nan Larkin. 

“Let’s put our best pitchers for targets next, with 
several snowballs. They won’t hit them and, by the 
time they come to, the targets will have had a bully 
chance to score.’’ 

Nan laughed. “You’ll do,” was all she said, and 
rushed back to start the maneuver. 

The Evens sensed that something was up. Yet they 
would not aim at the decoys, but watched the others 
in mass, which gave the pitchers just the chance they 
wanted. When the Evens were struck by the oncoming 
snowballs they became confused. Leaders gave con- 
flicting orders; the morale of their force was weaken- 
ing. They could not think quickly enough. They 
were dropped by a snowball whether they fought or 
not. 

Nine Evens were finally left to defend their flag and 
post, which they did most tenaciously. They remained 
hidden behind their ramparts while the others invited 
them to “come on out.” Some carefully dropped 
grenades got three. There were thirty left on the 
other side, but the brave six — Perhaps hunger drove 
them out! Who knows? — decided to go out and die 
game. 

They did. The Odd thirty practically swallowed 
them up as they went over the top. The Evens’ fort 
was carried and the red and green flags carried away 
in triumph. 

There were cheers and riotous singing. Even Ruth 


222 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Baldwin’s stentorian announcement that the Odds had 
won the day with fifteen points ahead could scarcely be 
heard above the din. 

There was a momentary lull only when Nan Larkin 
climbed to the top of the Odd Year trench and an- 
nounced : 

“Come on to Student-Alumnae Building, everybody. 
There will be dancing and refreshments, under the 
auspices of the Juniors. Remember it’s for the En- 
dowment Fund. Every doughnut bought means a 
brick.’’ She did not heed the roars, but went on, 
“Come on and get warm.” 

It was well on toward dusk by this time. But they 
went over and danced and ate and celebrated the Odd 
Years’ victory until lights began to gleam in distant 
halls and dinner bells to ring. 


CHAPTER XXII 


“buff” is persistent 

The Snow Carnival was about the last big celebra- 
tion that the girls were to have that January; for, 
before they realized it, the Midyear exams, which had 
been looming up in the distance and casting their 
shadows before, were upon them. To the Freshmen 
who had never experienced anything similar, except 
their entrance examinations, it was like an ominous, 
impending evil to be dodged as long as possible. 

Therefore, that Saturday night which witnessed the 
Odd Year victory, the girls fell to studying; for the 
following Monday began the week of Midyear exams. 
The Freshmen had Mathematics that first day, and all 
Saturday night, and (let us whisper it!) Sunday, they 
had crammed Solid Geometry formulas into all avail- 
able convolutions of their brains. They went to Chapel 
resigned to their fate, vowing that the Faculty were 
at liberty to do their worst. And when they went 
out again, was it coincidence or the spirit of mischief 
that had made Professor Howard select that special 
recessional? There was a twinkle in his eye as he 
struck the first chords, and a dawning smile of appre- 
ciation from the College as they began to sing: 

“On our way rejoicing, 

As we homeward move — " 

223 


224 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Were they rejoicing? Oh, well, Professor Howard 
had no mathematics or any other kind of exam to 
take. He could afford to rejoice. 

A limp, exhausted lot of girls returned at lunch- 
time. One or two had come back before the allotted 
two hours for the examination were up, and had gone 
up to their rooms smugly, sharkishly satisfied with 
themselves, to cram for the next examination. Cram, 
did we say? Nay, such people never cram. They do 
their work at the time they should and merely brush 
up and burnish the golden threads of memory just 
before the ordeal! 

But why should these Freshmen be doomed to an- 
other heavy examination the very next day? It was 
Latin this time. Most of the girls had had no other 
examination that Monday afternoon, and had spent 
their time going over Horace’s Odes and Livy, notes 
and footnotes, and miles of Latin prose. That evening 
they did not linger over jazz tunes in the parlor. In 
fact, “quiet hours” were decreed to start immediately 
after dinner, and nobody stayed around for entertain- 
ment. The house was stilled for once, except that 
now and then the echoes of a discussion or an out-of- 
place laugh could be heard from some room where 
several of the girls were studying together. When 
the retiring bell rang at ten o’clock a few of the rooms 
still remained lighted, for there the occupants intended 
to take a “sit-up” and pursue Horace and Livy unto 
later hours. 

The corner room, which was Pegs’, was lighted. 
Pegs was there, cramming with Spice Becker and Julia. 
Thara, who was something of a “shark” in Latin, did 


“BUFF” IS PERSISTENT 


225 


not feel the need of further refreshing on the Latin 
gentlemen and had gone to sleep with Mary Hubbard 
who was said to be a “fiend” in Latin. 

“No, I shall sleep to-night, thank you,” the latter 
had said, as with Thara she left the other three to 
their cramming. “The only thing that bothers me is 
that Solid Geometry we had this morning. I know I 
flunked it. I think I shall be doing cubical contents 
of cones all night long in my sleep. Anyway, it is 
the only time I can do the old things.” 

“It would be all right if that was all you did,” called 
back her roommate. “I leave you to her mercy, 
Thara. Anyway, when I finally get to bed here, I shall 
sleep — for one night, thank goodness !” 

Mary made a parting “face” at Spice as she closed 
the door, and soon the girls could hear the couches 
pulled from the wall, and they knew that Mary and 
Thara would soon be wrapped in enviable slumber. 

It was long past ten — the clock on Founder’s Hall 
had struck the hour twice again. Julia, who had been 
nodding violently, had finally taken refuge on a couch. 
Pegs was wide awake and declared she felt as though 
her eyes could now remain permanently open. Spice 
grunted, pulled her bathrobe closer round her neck, 
and declared she did not see why there had to be such a 
vile system of exams, anyway. She went on studying. 
Pegs took a cracker from the box at her elbow and 
pushed the box across towards Spice. 

Spice was beginning to nod, while trying unsuccess- 
fully to decline the noun “shoe” as of the third Latin 
declension. Suddenly Pegs became aware of a voice 
below-stairs, and then the sound came again, and 


226 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


again. It was not one of the girls in the room next 
the parlor, she knew. They were too good Latin stu- 
dents to cram all night long. 

She waited, tense, and the next time the voice seemed 
to come from the hall below. A door had creaked, and 
there were stealthy footsteps. 

“I wonder what’s the matter,” she said to Spice. 
But the latter stopped short half way^n a nod, blinked 
at her, and nodded again while her eyes slowly closed. 

Pegs tip-toed to the door of her room and opened 
it a few inches. 

“No, sir,” she heard the voice say, “I won’t let you 
out on a cold night like this. Indeed not.” 

“Me-ow!” 

It was Miss Cooke and from the context of the con- 
versation Pegs knew that she was having an argument 
with Buff. 

“But I can’t let you out. Buff.” 

“Me-ow! Me-ow!” 

Pegs went softly to the head of the stairs and sat 
down on the landing. She could see what was hap- 
pening in the dim light that shone from the dining 
room door. 

“Are you having trouble. Miss Cooke ?” she asked. 

“Er — ^yes,” said Miss Cooke, looking up, a little 
startled. “Is that — Margaret?” 

“Yes.” 

“Haven’t you gone to bed yet? You’ll be so worn 
out you won’t be able to think for your examination 
to-morrow.” 

“I’ll go. Miss Cooke, in a little while. — Does Buff 
want to go out?” 


“BUFF” IS PERSISTENT 


227 


“He does. He’s been so restless, he hasn’t let me 
sleep at all.” 

It was evident that he had gotten Miss Cooke out 
of bed, for her nightgown showed under her care- 
lessly donned kimono, and her bare feet in bedroom 
slippers. 

“But it’s so bitter cold I can’t let him go out. I 
can’t trust him to come back soon.” 

“Why don’t you put him downstairs. Miss Cooke?” 

“I did. But he didn’t like it. He cried worse than 
ever, and scratched the door.” 

“Me-ow ! Me-ow ! Me-ow !” 

“He is irrepressible! Maybe he’ll get sick of it 
and come back soon if you let him out. Miss Cooke.” 

“Me-ow ! Me-ow ! Me-ow-ow !” 

Pegs laughed, for Buff was keeping up a regular 
obligato during the conversation. 

“He is very persistent. — No, no. Buff!” 

“Me-ow-ow !” 

“I suppose if I don’t let him out I will stand here 
arguing with the cat until morning.” 

“Me-ow-ow !” 

“He’ll wake the whole house. This will never do.” 

Pegs’ nerves were getting on edge by this time. “He 
has thick fur, anyway,” she commented, almost ex- 
hausted. 

Miss Cooke had made up her mind. She was un- 
locking the front door, with a rattle that the night ex- 
aggerated and the stillness carried through the 
house. 

“Now, Buff!” — “Me-ow! Me-ow!” — “You must 
come back right away !” — “Me-ow ! Me-ow ! Hurry ! 


228 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Hurry ! Me-ow !” — “You understand ? Right away !” 
— “Me-ow-ow !” 

Buff shot out of the front door. A beautiful white 
moon streamed in and a breath of clear cold air that 
made Miss Cooke hastily draw her kimono about her 
ankles. 

“Don’t stand there, Miss Cooke,” suggested Pegs. 
“You will catch cold. Go back to bed, and then come 
for him again after a while.” 

Miss Cooke shut the front door. 

“I may as well,” she said, “but I shan’t sleep until 
that cat comes back.” 

Pegs went back to her room, really feeling the better 
for what she mentally termed the “cat-seance.” 

“What was it?” asked Spice crossly, her eyes half 
closed. 

“Miss Cooke. Buff wanted to go out.” 

“I should worry !” remarked Spice. 

Julia was fast asleep on the couch, her Livy under 
her arm. Spice had her head on her crooked arm on 
the table. Pegs wondered if she should not put out her 
light and give herself up to her fate. But the light 
did not seem to bother the other two, or keep them 
from sleeping; she would study on a little while longer, 
and then — 

She woke up with a start. 

“What is it? Why did you wake me?” demanded 
Spice from the other side of the table. 

“I don’t know — listen!” 

A distant muffled call came from outside the house. 

“Here— Kit-Kit-Kit I Here, Buff!” 

“Well?” 


“BUFF” IS PERSISTENT 


229 


“It’s Miss Cooke, calling Buff.” 

“Drat that Buff!” 

“Kit-Kit-Kit I” 

“I am going down.” 

Pegs pulled her kimono close over her shoulders, 
hitched her stocking and went out. 

On the front porch she found Miss Cooke consider- 
ably distressed. 

“Why did you come down here, child? Go right 
back to bed.” 

“But — w-w-why d-d-did you come out here after 
that old c-c-cat?” shivered Pegs from the half-opened 
door. “You’ll catch your death of c-cold.” 

“He’s been out here over an hour and I’ve called him 
from all sides of the house. He just answers in the 
distance and won’t come back.” 

“Let him s-s-stay out ; he’s having the time of his life 
in the m-moonlight I” 

“He’ll f-f-freeze to death — it’s s-s-so cold I” 

“Now, Miss Cooke, you will freeze to death — not 
Buff. And you’ll get pneumonia, ’n everything ! Do 
please come in!” 

“I’ll have to get Buff !” 

“Well, come in and get more clothes on first.” 

“I think I will. I’ll dress and go out after him.” 

“Ugh ! You’ll never get him !” 

“I’ll take some catnip, and a plate of liver !” 

Pegs was laughing. It was too funny. It was 
winter fishing — a foxy, unwilling cat and a good sniff- 
some bait. 

“If you must go out, Miss Cooke, I’ll dress and come 
with you.” 


230 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“No, go to bed, please, Margaret.” 

“I’m coming.” 

And Pegs tore upstairs two steps at a time. 

“Is she still looking for that dratted cat?” inquired 
Spice out of a half doze. 

“Yep,” laughed Pegs. “Want to come and help get 
him ?” 

“Not much; and you’re a fool to!” 

“Go on to bed, then.” 

So Spice flung herself on the other couch while Pegs 
put on several articles of clothing, shoes, galoshes, 
skirts, a blouse and a huge top coat. Spice was al- 
ready snoring when she turned the light out. 

She found Miss Cooke fumbling over the seat of the 
coat rack over some inducements for Buff. There 
was a good plate of liver and a package of catnip, with 
a newspaper to spread it on in the snow. The catnip 
was the trump card. 

“I have my electric lantern; we may need it,” 
whispered Miss Cooke. “You take that, and I’ll take 
the liver and the catnip.” 

Half laughing and expectant of adventure. Pegs 
took the flashlight and in a moment they were descend- 
ing the stairs into the shivering moon-swept night. 

“I think he’s out in back,” whispered Miss Cooke. 

The snow crunched under foot ; shadows loomed up 
big and mysterious; the moon was slowly sinking. 

“Buff! Buff! Buff! Here, Kit-Kit!” Miss 
Cooke was cooing softly. 

“Mee-ee-ow!” came the soft answer near the bam. 

Miss Cooke advanced softly. Something scurried. 

“Here— Kit-Kit-Kit!” 


“BUFF” IS PERSISTENT 


231 


“There he is!” whispered Pegs. “He’s over by the 
Class A chicken-coop now !” 

Miss Cooke laughed nervously, a bit exasperated. 

“I’ll get that wretch! I’ll put the catnip and liver 
in the middle, so he’ll stop half way. You stay here, 
Margaret.” 

Twenty feet away Miss Cooke stopped and arranged 
her bait. Then she advanced with the catnip tempt- 
ingly held at arm’s length. 

“Kit-Kit-Kit!” 

As she neared. Buff made a bee-line for a point 
diagonally opposite, near the kitchen door, which left 
Miss Cooke and Pegs at the corner bases of a nice 
isosceles triangle. Buff meowed from the lattice work 
under the back porch. 

Pegs tittered. “He’s as bad as Hamlet’s father’s 
ghost,” she remarked, as Miss Cooke came back in her 
direction again. “If only Hamlet had had catnip and 
liver, who knows, he might have done better.” 

Miss Cooke did not seem to see any humor in this 
remark. 

“We have liver,” replied Miss Cooke seriously. “I 
think,” she went on, “if we opened the kitchen door, 
and lit the light inside, and then put the plate of liver 
inside in full view with a trail of catnip leading up to 
it from the porch — ” 

Pegs was laughing. “And I’ll get just in back of 
the door, inside, and push it to, the minute he gets 
in — ” She was enjoying it all hugely. 

“Me-ow!” called Buff softly, now from the farther 
end of the garden. 

“He’s almost out in the road now.” 


232 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Maybe he’ll come back around the other side of the 
house again,” suggested Pegs. “There — what’s that 
noise? I hear the snow crunching. — Goodness!” 

From around the other side of the house a figure in 
white was approaching. 

“The College ghost!” she whispered, backing up to 
Miss Cooke and clutching her arm. 

Miss Cooke, looking in the same direction, started 
violently at the touch. 

“There is no such thing as a ghost,” she reassured 
Pegs — and herself. 

“I know. I know. But it is something, anyway. 
See — it’s coming toward us — of course there are no 
ghosts.” 

They were in the shadow near the barn door. For 
they did not like to stand in the path of the Thing’s 
advance, and they were making ready for a backward 
'•<'<^reat. 

“I am going to speak to it,” whispered Miss Cooke. 

“Don’t,” whispered back Pegs, instinctively trying 
to restrain her. 

“I’ll find out what it is,” persisted Miss Cooke. 

And as the Thing came within ten feet of her, she 
took the light from out of Pegs’ hand, and flashed it 
upon the apparition, demanding, “Who is it?” 

“Mary Hubbard!” Pegs nearly sank to her knees 
in the snow, her legs almost giving way. 

“Hush!” whispered Miss Cooke, turning out her 
light. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

THE magpie's nest 

It was the figure of Mary Hubbard, clothed only in 
a nightgown, and it neither saw nor heard them. It 
merely blinked at the unexpected flash of the light 
which Miss Cooke immediately clicked out. 

Buff was forgotten temporarily, to be recalled dimly 
as his soft call came now and then from some distant 
point. 

The white figure came directly for the barn, fumbled 
a moment at the knob of a small door beside the great 
barn door, opened it without further hesitation and 
went in. 

All sorts of thoughts were flashing through the 
minds of the two outside. They were the dawning of 
ideas. 

“Do you think — ” began Pegs. 

“Hush,” said Miss Cooke. “Let us follow her and 
see what happens. But don’t wake her up suddenly.” 

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Pegs aghast. 

“She is asleep — walking in her sleep, I think.” 

“Good gracious !” as the two wedged together inside 
the small door. 

“Listen,” whispered Miss Cooke, “I think she is go- 
ing up the ladder to the hayloft — by the creaking of 
it.” 

“Flash your light. Miss Cooke.” 

233 


234 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


The lamp was flashed for a moment. On the other 
side of the barn was revealed the white figure, going 
up the small creaking perpendicular ladder, evidently 
having a little difficulty because of her nightgown and 
something they now saw she carried in her left hand. 

“Shall we follow her?” asked Pegs. “Won’t she 
fall?” 

“No, let her alone,” replied Miss Cooke. “She is 
more likely to hurt herself if she is startled.” 

Mary had gained the hayloft above their heads. 
They could hear her feet swishing in the hay. Then 
they heard her sink down and they held their breath. 
She might have lain down to sleep for all they knew, 
and they were beginning to get impatient. They were 
debating whether they should go up after her, when 
they heard a stir and a sigh above their heads, .with 
the sound of her rummaging about in the hay. 

“She must be looking for something,” suggested 
Pegs. “But why she should look for it there, I don’t 
know. Listen — she is rummaging — some !” 

Miss Cooke was about to speak when the rummag- 
ing ceased and again was heard the stealthy walking 
in the hay, and then the creaking of the ladder. They 
stood aside in the dark. A warm figure almost 
touched them as it brushed past. They could hear the 
measured nasal breathing. 

“My! My!” was all Pegs could say, as they fol- 
lowed again into the night air. 

Straight for the front of the house went Mary. Of 
course the front door had been left open by them. 
No, Mary disdained the front door and as they came 
around the corner of the house, fifteen feet behind her. 


THE MAGPIE’S NEST 


235 


they saw a white figure shinning up a pillar to the 
roof of the piazza. 

“My! My!” was all Pegs could find to repeat, 
while Miss Cooke watched breathlessly. 

Mary disappeared inside the window into her dark 
room. 

“She is the star climber in the gym,” muttered Pegs ; 
“it never occurred to me.” 

“Do you think we had better wake her up and give 
her a hot drink ?” asked Miss Cooke, pursuing a differ- 
ent line of thought. “She will catch her death of 
cold.” 

“No, don’t. If she is waked up, it will startle her 
too much. Better wait until morning. Then you 
can give her a preventive.” 

The night was far gone, thought Miss Cooke. 
Morning was at most but three hours off, and a good 
sleep is always of use. So she nodded her head in 
acquiescence. 

“But, what I’d like to know is,” went on the excited 
Freshman, “what was she rummaging around in the 
hay for? What do you suppose. Miss Cooke? 
Eggs?” 

“Eggs! Perhaps,” replied Miss Cooke. “I have 
another idea, though.” 

“So have I,” exclaimed Pegs, breathlessly. 
“Hadn’t we better go and see? We have your electric 
lamp.” 

Miss Cooke, who had by this time quite forgotten 
Buff, was ready to investigate; and a few moments 
saw them at the foot of the ladder in the barn. 

“Be careful when you get up there, Margaret,” 


236 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


warned Miss Cooke. “There are many holes. I will 
follow and hand the light up to you.” 

“Oh, are you coming?” excitedly broke in Pegs. 
“Do you think it’s safe for you? — But,” she added, 
not thinking for a moment she might have insulted 
the mountain climber, “I guess I’d like you to see 
whatever I might — might find.” 

Pegs was on her knees in the deep hay. “I think 
she went to this corner — that’s what it sounded like.” 
And while Miss Cooke held up the electric lamp. Pegs 
began to dig into the hay with her hands and arms. 

“We’ll go over this inch by inch,” she went on, her 
tongue getting away from her feverishly. “I am just 
wondering what I shall find. — Perhaps, perhaps — 
Oh!” 

Miss Cooke flashed the light into the nest she had 
dug up. A nest — ^a magpie’s nest — lay revealed to 
their wondering gaze. 

“Spice’s silver hair brush! A pair of gym 
bloomers!” Pegs laughed hysterically. “And look! 
She just buried her Livy and her Solid Geometry! — 
And money! Oh, Miss Cooke! That must be my 
hundred dollars ! Here — count it !” 

With shaking hands Miss Cooke counted the bills 
in her lap as she squatted in the hay, with the electric 
flashlight in the hay beside her. 

“It is a hundred, Margaret, child!” said Miss Cooke, 
almost weeping. “Think what all this means.” 

“It means that Jo Guilford is exonerated. It means 
— oh, it means so many things !” 

“Don’t get so excited, dear,” said Miss Cooke. 
“Come in from the edge of the loft.” 


THE MAGPIE’S NEST 


237 


“Oh, there are such loads of things more. An old 
orange — college crackers — ^a red tie — a nail file — a 
shoehorn. And what’s this? A letter addressed to 
you. Please look at it ? What is it ?” 

“Bless my heart! It is addressed to me!” Miss 
Cooke moved her glasses on her nose and tore open 
the envelope. “Why — why — ” she gasped. “It is a 
note from Josephine Guilford — December i8th — why, 
it is the note Josephine gave to Mary to give to me 
when we thought she had run away !” 

“Oh, Jo! Jo!” groaned Pegs. “I am going to get 
her. Miss Cooke — No, no, I can’t rest until she comes 
out' and sees for herself — ^there,” she threw into the 
hole the hundred dollars she was holding in her hand. 
“And after I’ve apologized. I’ll bring down Spice, and 
make her apologize, too, on her knees !” 

She left Miss Cooke wiping her tear-wet glasses 
thoughtfully, and felt her way down the ladder. In 
five minutes she was back again, dragging over the 
hay the wondering Jo Guilford, who had barely been 
given time to throw on some clothes and a top coat. 

“There !” cried Pegs dramatically, waving her hand 
towards the magpie’s nest and holding aloft the elec- 
tric torch. “There are the stolen things — my hundred 
dollars — Spice’s silver brush — even your note, Jo Guil- 
ford, to Miss Cooke when you went away! Every- 
thing ! Everything !” 

“But — ^but — do you think I put them there?” asked 
Jo, startled, but looking stiffly from one to the other. 

“Josephine dear,” cried Pegs feverishly, “we did not 
say you put them there. We found the one who did !” 

And then the whole story came pouring out like a 


238 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


cataract over a precipice, with nodded confirmations 
from Miss Cooke, still squatted down in the hay. 

“Jo, dear !“ cried Pegs at the end. “I brought you 
here to show you and to apologize to you. I knew 
you never did it, and I should have apologized to you 
long ago! Only I am a weak character and — and — 
oh, well!” 

She threw her arms around Jo’s neck, while the safe 
and sane Miss Cooke warned them not to get too near 
the edge. 

“Everybody shall know about it — everybody!” was 
Pegs’ promise. 

“Everybody except Mary,” commented Jo. 

“Yes, that is so,” said Miss Cooke. “For Mary 
must never know she did this. I will have to talk to 
the doctor about it and write to her mother — But I 
think, girls, we had better go on to bed now. It must 
be three o’clock. To-morrow we can tell the other 
girls.” 

They climbed down from the hayloft, one after the 
other. 

“This has been a strenuous night,” breathed Pegs, 
as they got out into the open again. “I wonder if I 
shall pass that Latin exam. Ugh! — Anyway, I’ve 
passed the exam on my conscience and that’s worth 
ten A’s!” 

“My ! What was it started us?” asked Miss Cooke, 
trying to get her bearings. 

“Mee-ow!” came the soft answer from the kitchen 
window. 

“It’s Buff ! I quite forgot about him !” 


THE MAGPIE’S NEST 


239 


And Bufif, who had found the liver which they had 
forgotten in the snow and gorged himself with it, and 
had partaken copiously of that “insane root that takes 
the reason prisoner,” was now ready to go into the 
warm house, and graciously allowed himself to be 
gathered up in his mistress’s arms. 


N 


CHAPTER XXIV 

RESTITUTION 

Spice did not apologize on her knees to Jo Guilford. 
In the excitement of the examination the next day, 
she escaped. But Pegs whispered mysteriously to 
groups of the girls after breakfast that morning, when 
Mary Hubbard went up to make her bed and Miss 
Cooke followed with a dose of medicine, and, their 
curiosity on tip-toe, she took them out to the barn — 
all but Spice who refused to be “bothered” — and up 
to the crunching hay. 

“Now, girls,” she said, “I want you to see the thing 
with your own eyes and I hope it will sink into you, 
just as it did into me, what wrong, dreadfully wrong, 
things we’ve been thinking of one of our number. I 
didn’t mean to make a speech — but just look, look!” 

She pulled back the hay and uncovered the insane 
hoard. They stood amazed — ^aghast — then giggled. 

“Do you mean Mary Hubbard put these here?” 
asked one of the girls. 

“Well, she buried her Livy and Solid Geometry here, 
so I judge she buried all the rest, too. Miss Cooke 
and I watched her. It was most uncanny!” 

“Well— well— and Jo Guilford?” 

“That’s the crying shame of it all, Julia. We were 
so disgustingly underhanded about it, we didn’t give 
her a chance to defend herself — ever.” 

240 


KESTITUTION 


241 


“I knew she couldn’t have done such a thing,” said 
Fanny. 

“Why didn’t you come out and say so? Or tell 
her?” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

Pegs was stumped for a while. She had no excuse. 

“I guess it’s the mob spirit among us. We led each 
other on and were afraid to break away. I was per- 
haps more cowardly than the rest of you, for I was 
absolutely convinced that Jo had nothing to do with 
it. But it’s just like seeing a fly tangled on fly-paper : 
so long as you don’t feel her pain and agony, there is 
no pain and agony and you turn your back and let her 
suffer. It’s just a common ordinary household affair, 
that fly-catcher. Everybody uses it — but it’s mighty 
cruel.” 

“Turn that to Latin prose, dear,” remarked Julia, 
the first to come out of the influence of Pegs’ speech. 
“ ‘Ode on a Captured Fly.’ We will publish it in the 
College News.” 

“But Pegs is right,” championed Sarah. “I am 
really ashamed of myself. I think we ought to do 
something for Jo. Get together and buy her some- 
thing.” 

“I think she would refuse anything like that from 
us, Thara,” said Pegs, “she’s too high-spirited and just 
because she’s poor she’ll be extra fussy about material 
gifts. Anyway, we’ll have to make it up to her for 
having been so nasty. Maybe we’ll find some special 
way to show how sorry we are. — -There goes the 
Chapel bell. Oh, my Latin exam! Has anybody an 
extra blue book for sale?” 


242 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“But just imagine Mary Hubbard!” they com- 
mented, as they went, backward, down the ladder. 
“Can you imagine?” 

“I can imagine such things,” from Pegs. “That 
must have been her other personality that Lou was 
talking about. Only remember — don’t talk about it 
outside. And Mary is not to know.” 

Spice never went near the magpie’s nest. She 
waited until the missing brush and comb were brought 
to her. She turned them over and over, unbelieving. 
And yet, she was convinced, too, for the thing that 
worried her now was Mary Hubbard as roommate. 
She sought out Pegs for advice. 

“You can’t do anything,” said the latter. “Mary 
is not going to eat you alive, and you’ve roomed with 
her for months without knowing.” 

“Well, she might do something. She is not ac- 
countable in her sleep. I am really afraid.” 

Pegs laughed. 

“It serves you right for being so hard on Jo Guil- 
ford without reason,” said Pegs. “It’s direct punish- 
ment. Now sizzle.” 

Spice was sizzling. After ineffectually seeking 
solace and suggestion from the various members of 
the household, she went to Miss Cooke, trying to have 
her room changed, and finally suggesting that Mary 
Hubbard be put upstairs in the big front room, which 
was really large enough for three, and herself being 
given the little room alone, on the ground of her 
health. Miss Cooke refused summarily to do any- 
thing of the sort, and instead gave Spice the lecture 


RESTITUTION 


243 


she had been saving up for her. Spice was sorry she 
had ever brought up the subject. 

She went away. Feeling disconsolate and ashamed ? 
— No, indignant and persecuted. Nobody was sorry 
for her except her mother at home, who received her 
tales of woe and accepted what she wrote in good 
faith. 

Poor Mary, meanwhile, was “treated like a dog.” 
She could not understand Spice, but Spice had had 
enough experience with the results of her tongue as 
regards Jo Guilford to attempt to come out into the 
open with Mary. 

Spice really suffered. Pegs declared it did her heart 
good to see it. 

For Spice did not apologize at any time. She did 
not see why she should. 

As for Jo Guilford, she took their apologies when 
they were severally given, as she had their other ac- 
tions — silently, coldly. It meant nothing to her now. 
She knew she could get along without their friend- 
ship. Why should she bother at this late day? 

Pegs was secretly grieved at her failure to touch 
Jo’s heart. But then what right had she to expect 
that she could? Pegs ransacked her mind for a way 
to overcome the barrier; at last, accidentally one day, 
the remedy came. 

She was returning from a last recitation at 4.30 
one afternoon. It was the week following the Mid- 
year exams, and Pegs was highly excited to find in her 
letter-box in the post office^ — as did the other Fresh- 
men — a card from the Registrar’s office with her stand- 
ing for the first semester. 


244 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Her fifteen hours of work had netted her two 
“Credits,” three “Pasts” and another “Credit” in 
Gymnasium work. Pegs was fairly skipping home. 
How her Dad would love to see that card now ! He 
would double her allowance on the strength of it. 
How she ever got it she did not know, but there it 
was, and the report bore her own full name on it! — 
Margaret Louise Sutton Whiting. Well, she would 
celebrate — she had that hundred dollars and she 
would do what she liked. She had already been cele- 
brating with two other Freshmen from the Campus, 
whom she had treated to hot chocolate at the village 
store fountain, and her thirst now took her directly 
to the dining room for a glass of fresh water. She 
was just about to lift the pitcher with the ice tinkling 
in it when she overheard an interesting remark from 
the kitchen. 

“So your birthday is the same as George Washing- 
ton’s.” 

It was Effie that was speaking. She could see her 
through the pantry windows, just stooping down to 
take a towering sponge cake out of the oven. Jo 
Guilford, who was putting strawberry jam into a fancy 
glass bowl, responded with a smile. 

“That is one honor fortune gave me. So you see 
I always have my birthday celebrated !” 

The thought that flashed through Pegs’ brain was 
almost too much! She nearly dropped the pitcher. 
She went flying up to her room, threw her books on 
her couch, and nearly upset Thara sitting on the edge 
of the other. 


RESTITUTION 


245 


‘T have it! I have it!” she cried, hugging Thara 
to distraction. 

“What have you?” questioned Thara. “Not any- 
thing bad?” 

“An idea!” 

“Why didn’t you say so at once ! I couldn’t 
imagine what might have happened. But tell me. 
Only go easy. Ouch, my hair !” 

“Jo Guilford’s birthday is on Washington’s Birth- 
day.” 

“Ye-es?— What of it?” 

“We’ll give her a birthday party and we’ll have a 
regular bang-up sort of time. We’ll talk it over with 
the other girls — and we’ll get her a birthday present — 
and I’ll contribute any or all of my hundred dollars 
to the expenses!” It all came out with a rush. 

“Margaret !” 

Thara almost fell over. She had been so startled 
that she called Pegs by the almost unheard “Mar- 
garet.” 

“Let’s get Julia and Fanny. Thara, we’re going to 
celebrate Washington’s Birthday !” 

“That’ll be perfectly bully! — But, Pegs — ^as to con- 
tributing all of your hundred — that’s rather an exag- 
geration, isn’t it ? And maybe there are a few amongst 
us who would like the privilege of contributing.” 

“Oh, all right. We’ll make it a house affair, if you 
like. Maybe it won’t be anything like one hundred 
dollars — I guess not. But I’m not going to spare any 
money to make it a regular affair — ^no stinting ! We’re 
going to have some party ! — Oh !” 


246 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“What have you now?” inquired her roommate as 
Pegs paused with another exclamation. 

“I forgot — I passed everything and got two 
‘Credits’ besides Gym!” 

“Pegs ! That’s worth shouting about I” 

“That’s what started me going!” 

And she had forgotten all about it with the advent 
of the other idea! 

“Oh, Thara, Pm afraid Pm getting to be a scatter- 
brain. Let’s see your card, sweetheart. But you got 
Credit for everything.” 

“No-o! My Math was pretty bad. I wonder I 
passed at all. But the Lord loves babes !” 

And they fell to discussing their standing, their 
chances for a degree, college methods ad infinitum. 

The rest of the month passed faster than they had 
expected, with the hard work of getting started in 
the new semester. There were new subjects, some 
changes in professors, more Latin, Trigonometry, a 
new course in English and new electives. Also there 
was more snow with good skiing and coasting. The 
roads, that had been rendered impassable by the 
blizzard and continued snowstorms, were opened up 
just enough for the trolley cars to pass, and all other 
traffic was by sleigh. 

But in the midst of all, preparations were secretly 
being made for celebrating the two birthdays on the 
22nd of February. Brains were set to working and 
as the time drew near Miss Cooke was frequently con- 
sulted about household arrangements. The 22nd was 
a Monday, and this made two grand holidays. 


RESTITUTION 


247 


There was only one drawback to it all — Spice 
Becker. When the proposed celebration was men- 
tioned to her, she grunted with disgust, then grew very 
red and soon after disappeared to her room. Spice 
managed to have herself invited away for the holiday 
to the home of an aunt who lived near by, and so 
avoided the party. There was an almost audible sigh 
of relief at the announcement of the proposed absence. 

And then the great day dawned. "Miss Cooke had 
connived with the girls and sent Jo on a long-promised 
visit to her cousin’s at Hampden Falls, together with 
two dozen of Class C’s eggs. She was to spend the 
day there, for Cousin Carrie knew Jo’s mother well — 
and return in the evening in time for dinner. 

Jo returned just twenty minutes before the dinner 
hour. As she opened the front door she stood in 
amazement at the sight of the decorations. Ferns and 
palms, loaned from the College plant houses on the 
earnest plea and guarantee of Miss Cooke, stood in the 
corners, while mingled with the green, streamers of 
red, white and blue crepe paper hung across the hall 
and dining room. Wicker chairs filled with soft 
pillows stood in the corners under the palms. The 
whole place seemed transformed. 

“Are we having a celebration?” asked Jo, of Pegs, 
who was standing near the door on a stool, trying to 
fasten up a decoration by ineffectually pushing a pin 
into the hard wood panel. 

“Yes, we’re celebrating the big birthday.” 

“I didn’t know, or I’d have stayed home and helped. 
And I’m dreadfully late. — ^All of you are all dressed 
up and ready.” 


24,8 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Not quite. But you have twenty minutes to wash 
and dress. I’ll come up and help you. — Don’t worry 
about the dinner. Effie’s taking care of it.” 

And when the dinner bell was ringing, Pegs was 
hooking up the last hook of a pink and white organdy 
that made Jo look like a butterfly. 

“What wonderful decorations!” exclaimed Jo, as 
they came down together. 

“That was Thara’s artistic taste. ' She was Decora- 
tion Committee.” 

“Wonderful! Are you expecting company?” 

“The person in whose honor this celebration is 
given.” 

Pegs was smiling, as she drew her arm through Jo’s. 
The other girls trooping down the stairs, noisily, 
hungrily, curiously, were smiling, too. 

“But George Washington — ” 

“Others have been born since the Father of His 
Country.” 

Miss Cooke appeared at the door leading from her 
apartment, dressed in her black grenadine. 

“Oh — ^Josephine! You are back! I was afraid 
you’d be delayed. Come and sit beside me. This is 
your place to-night, and Margaret sits on the other 
side of you.” 

“What others did you mean — Margaret?” asked Jo, 
as they pulled out their chairs and were sitting down 
at table. 

“You, dear.” 

“Wha— ” 

The exclamation from Jo halted as a flush of red 
mantled her face. She had never before lost her 


RESTITUTION 


249 


equanimity. It was a good thing that Miss Cooke 
announced that instead of the usual blessing they 
would sing “America.” It helped Jo recover her 
poise. She listened breathlessly to Pegs whose arm 
was about her and who was explaining that it was 
her birthday they were honoring as well as George 
Washington’s. She gazed almost in a daze at the 
table, the decorations, the hand-painted menu cards, 
and in front of her place the gorgeous bouquet of 
American beauties, from the girls, such as she had 
never hoped to own in all her life. And at the foot 
of the vase, a complete set of Robert I>ouis Stevenson, 
her best beloved author, in little flexible leather vol- 
umes — the separate gift of Pegs Whiting. 

Jo looked up to catch Efiie’s eyes smiling at her 
from the end of the table where she had begun to 
serve with the help of two Freshmen who had volun- 
teered for this occasion. Then she caught the general 
smile all around. 

“I — I don’t know what to say,” she faltered, and 
her eyes became suspiciously shiny. “I — I — ” 

“Don’t say anything, dear,” burst out Pegs, coming 
to the rescue. “Don’t say anything. — Eat! — My! 
I haven’t tasted oysters on the half shell since my 
entrance exams !” 

And they did eat — all of them — for from the 
oysters on the half shells to the ice cream and demi- 
tasses it was a great feast. And happiness reigned. 
Miss Cooke had insisted on providing the essentials 
like roasted Class C fowls, asparagus and cranberries, 
with one of Effie’s specially light and fluffy sponge 
cakes, while the girls had seen to the embellishments. 


250 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Then came the toasts, drunk in lemonade, and after 
that Thara sang “Drink to me only with thine eyes,” 
“Auld Lang Syne,” and other of their favorites, while 
they all joined in the choruses. 

They had touched Jo Guilford’s heart at last. Gone 
was the reserve, the aloofness. Instead there was a 
radiant personality with the readiest smile of good fel- 
lowship and liking. There was no reference to the 
past nor was any reason given for the elaborateness 
of the affair. Jo Guilford was really happy with them 
for once, they knew, and as they adjourned to the 
parlor to dance — the ban on dancing having been lifted 
by Miss Cooke for that one night — one meek, little, 
far-away Freshman was heard to say : “Isn’t Jo Guil- 
ford fine ! I think Spice Becker is the funniest girl ! — 
And won’t she be wild at what she missed to-night !” 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE BREAK IN THE ICE 

By avoidance of the issue Spice Becker thought she 
had escaped it. But the Great Recompense knows no 
escape, whether here on earth or in the Great Beyond. 
It bides its time ; it never misses nor forgets. It pays 
always. 

Spice may have regretted missing the marvelous 
viands of the Birthday celebration, but she grunted 
in apparent disgust and disapproval when her room- 
mate told her of the affair. 

“I think you have all gone mad,” Spice said, but that 
was as far as she would go, for she never intimated to 
Mary Hubbard just why all this was done. Be that 
to her credit. 

February passed into March, the weather grew 
milder in spells, and the snow that had accumulated 
on the roads and fields began to show signs of melting. 
There was still skiing and snowshoeing for those en- 
thusiasts who could take off for an hour or two in the 
afternoon to steal out into the open air. There was 
even good coasting and the skating had continued 
since Christmas on the part of the lake that had been 
cleared. 

The Journey’s Enders had been especially partial to 
skating — even the generally busy Jo Guilford — as the 
Upper Lake with its fine skating stretch was quite near 
251 


252 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


them, and since the Midyear exams had been their 
daily meeting ground. It was with really regretful 
hearts that they felt the cold grow less sharp, and 
saw the snow melting into little streams at the edge 
of the walks in the sun. 

One Wednesday a party from the house went down 
to the Lake to take their “farewell skate,” so they said 
— Sarah, Julia, Fanny and Spice Becker, and a little 
later Pegs persuaded Jo Guilford to go with her. 

“How’s the ice, girls?” called Pegs, waving her 
skates. “Any good ?” 

“Not especially,” called back Julia. “It’s getting 
thin and last night’s rain broke it all up at that end,” 
pointing towards the dam. 

“Oh, well, it’s good enough for to-day anyhow. 
Who’s been doing the figure eight?” 

“Fanny. Pretty good, isn’t it?” 

Pegs was lacing up her skating boots to which her 
skates were attached. She looked from where she was 
kneeling to Jo Guilford standing beside her. 

“Why don’t you put on your skates, Jo? Don’t you 
think the ice is good enough?” 

“Oh, yes, but . . .” 

“Why not?” queried Pegs, looking at her search- 
ingly. 

“Why, I didn’t know Spice Becker was here,” look- 
ing across to where the girls were skating. 

“What difference does that make? Isn’t the Lake 
big enough for both?” 

“Well, it’s big enough as far as I am concerned, but 
it’s embarrassing just the same. She won’t like it and 
I am afraid I’ll spoil the party if I come in.” 


THE BREAK IN THE ICE 


263 


“Here — let me strap your skates.” Pegs was very 
decided. “You were going skating with me.” 

Jo laughed and allowed Pegs to buckle on her skates 
while she held to the younger girl’s shoulders. Pegs 
was putting herself out in every way to show her ap- 
preciation of the girl who was working her way 
through College, and somehow doing things for others 
made her think less of herself. Together they stepped 
out on the ice and began to circle round the Lake. 

The others were cutting fancy figures on the ice 
and every once in a while Pegs, who was holding Jo 
by the hand, would pull her toward the group to watch 
the evolutions. Spice did not like it — ^Jo could see 
that out of the corner of her eye — and when finally 
Pegs remained and became frankly one of the 
group, all the while keeping Jo with her. Spice skated 
off at a tangent and began to circle the Lake by her- 
self. 

Spice Becker was no mean skater and her perform- 
ance generally attracted an interested circle of on- 
lookers, but it was growing late and the few who 
had been on the ice had begun to go home. Finally 
the other girls went home, too, leaving Pegs and Jo, 
who had come after them and wished to stay a bit 
longer. 

Spice had edged off toward the dam, for here there 
was a clear bit of ice, smooth and still fine because 
of its proximity to the break. She certainly looked 
her best, sailing like a bird over the smooth stretch, 
and as the others stopped to watch, the only fault they 
had to find was that she went too near the edge. Pegs 
skated up to her. 


254 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Don’t go so near the edge, Spice,” she called; “it 
isn’t any too safe — with your weight.” 

Spice snorted. With her weight ! 

“I guess it’s safe enough,” she replied. “I’m no 
elephant.” 

“Yes, but the ice is weak over there.” 

“Don’t worry about me. This is my own little 
corner.” So Spice skated away. 

Pegs went back to Jo who was watching a small boy 
from the neighborhood trying to propel his sled across 
the ice by the primitive method — with his heels, as if 
it were a kiddie car. 

“I’ll pull you, son,” she was saying to him, and she 
took hold of his rope and commenced to skate around 
with him in tow. 

“I see you have a beau,” said Pegs, coming up. 

“Yes, on a string,” laughed Jo. 

“I’ll show you the best method of locomotion,” said 
Pegs, getting up behind the child and taking him by 
the shoulders. “Give him the rope to steer and I’ll 
skate along and push him behind. Let her go, old 
man. Let me show you.” 

In two minutes Pegs was pushing the sled over the 
upper end of the pond, much to the delight of the 
youngster. Jo waved to them both from where she 
was skating. Below skated Spice in a circle, her head 
in the air. 

Suddenly the thing happened! 

Perhaps it was because her head was too much up in 
the air; perhaps it was because she so ostentatiously 
insisted upon skating near the edge; perhaps she was 
really thinking of other things — but suddenly she 


THE BREAK IN THE ICE 


255 


seemed to lose her sense of direction, she continued 
skating directly on in a straight line, borne on by 
her impetus and incapable of stopping. For without 
so much as a shadow of an attempt to veer or stop, 
she skated straight into the hole in the ice. 

Only one person saw it. When Pegs, a minute 
later, turned her young man round to push him toward 
the other end, she saw Jo Guilford skating madly 
toward the dam. Momentarily she wondered where 
Spice had gone. And then the energy in Jo’s back, 
the intenseness in her stride as she forged ahead, told 
her that something terrible had happened. She re- 
membered her own warning. She saw the whole scene 
before her eyes. 

“Stay here, Johnny,” she called to the child, who 
sat still and aggrieved at her defection. She had miles 
to go, it seemed, and her feet appeared to cover hardly 
any ground at all. 

For a moment there was nothing but a violent agita- 
tion of ripples over the surface of the water. Jo’s 
heart was in her mouth, as, having crawled out as far 
as she dared, she knelt over the edge. Perhaps she 
was caught under the ice! She knew Spice was no 
swimmer. But would her own strength serve for the 
two? 

These thoughts crowded her brain. It seemed ages 
— perhaps it was only a few moments. A more 
violent wave was thrown up from the surface of the 
water in the hole, and a brown, disheveled head ap- 
peared. Jo caught at the hair and then at the arm 
which waved frantically in the air in a helpless effort to 
grasp at something — anything. 


256 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Steady, there. You’re all right,” was all she said. 
“Keep quiet and don’t struggle.” And slowly she 
edged the girl closer to her. 

Through the wet wisps of hair that covered her face 
Spice saw who it was that held her arm and compre- 
hension began to return. She groaned and sought to 
release herself. A crack in the ice warned them both. 

“For goodness’ sake,” the Sophomore cried, “hold 
as you are! — Pegs!” For over her shoulder Jo saw 
Pegs approaching with long strides. 

“Hold her tight !” cried Pegs, as she knelt down and 
grasped Spice’s other arm. 

But the united effort to pull her out only broke the 
ice at the edge. 

“The sled!” cried Jo. “Get it. I’ll hold her.” 

Pegs went. She skated towards the little boy, who, 
realizing at last the situation, was racing towards them 
dragging his sled behind just as fast as his legs could 
carry him. 

Jo should not have been so sanguine about holding 
Spice Becker. For the latter had begun to squirm her- 
self out of Jo’s grasp. 

“I can get up alone,” she cried. “Let me go.” 

She wrenched herself free, but the shock of the 
effort threw her back deep into the water. 

Heart beating violently, Jo caught at one fast dis- 
appearing hand. She felt desperate and indignant. 
She took hold of Spice’s arm with both hands, and 
with one tremendous effort, pulled her to the edge of 
the hole and over the breaking ice, until she had 
hauled her to a firm place. 

Spice did not need to be told she was safe. She 


THE BREAK IN THE ICE 


257 


rolled over on her face as they stooped over her. Was 
she losing consciousness? The two girls looked at 
each other. She was weeping! 

“I think she is hysterical from the shock,” whispered 
Pegs. “Let’s get her home as soon as possible.” 

And with a little persuasion and no little muscle 
strength, they bundled Spice Becker on the little lad’s 
sled, and sped her up the hill, to Journey’s End. 

In the dim twilight no one saw them ga in. Only 
Mary Hubbard, who helped put Spice to bed, and Miss 
Cooke to whom Jo, once in, resigned her place and 
who administered preventive measures to her heart’s 
content. 

Spice Becker was decidedly fretful. She took Miss 
Cooke’s preventives because she was afraid of the re- 
sults of the cold immersion. But besides a cup of hot 
tea she would take nothing. Her hair-breadth escape 
overwhelmed her. 

The girls downstairs talked about it in whispers 
and it was suggested by Miss Cooke that they leave 
her alone to go to sleep. Even Mary Hubbard was 
banished from the room for the night and was given 
asylum by Pegs and Thara. 

But Spice did not go to sleep. She was thinking, 
thinking of all sorts of things, but above all she was 
shamed and humiliated. That such a thing should be- 
fall her — ^that she should skate into the hole — and that 
she should be pulled out by the one she abhorred most ! 

Her light had been turned out early. The girls 
found her transom dark when they went upstairs to 
study. But Spice herself lay awake and heard the 


258 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


hours go by — eight, nine, ten and then all was quiet 
throughout the house. She lay in a dull, grieved 
torpor, trying to catch the meaning of the events that 
formed and dissolved in her mind like a kaleidoscope. 
What was it that she was searching after ? 

Eleven, twelve, one — she had heard all the hours 
strike. She turned on her face with a groan. In- 
deed, the Great Recompense was slowly getting the 
better of her. 

But at that hour of the night, when her soul was 
wrenched and torn as only the selfish in their moments 
of awakening can be, understanding came to her, con- 
science awoke. The thing that had been coated over 
and atrophied with years of petting and coddling on 
the part of her family, suddenly came to life. 

If any one had been awake that night at Journey’s 
End they might have seen a figure in white going 
stealthily along the hall. It was no ghost ; nor was 
it Mary Hubbard. It climbed the little winding stairs 
at the rear of the house to the top floor, walked 
gingerly across the upper hall, and slowly opened a 
door to the little room at the side. 

The moon fell across a couch where Jo Guilford 
lay, her arm thrown across her face, sleeping heavily. 

For a moment Spice Becker stopped in the door- 
way; then she stepped inside and shut the door, and 
with a quick movement strode across the room and 
threw herself beside the couch of the sleeper, burying 
her head in the downy comfortable. 

“What is it? Who is it?” cried Jo, starting out of 
her sleep. When, regaining her senses and seeing the 
white-clad girl beside her, “Oh — is it Pegs?” 


THE BREAK IN THE ICE 


259 


“No,” groaned the other, burying her face deeper, 
“it is I — Spice Becker!” 

“Spice Becker I — Spice — Why — But, my dear, you’ll 
catch your death of cold going around like this. Here, 
put my bathrobe over you.” And she reached for it 
from a chair beside her bed and threw it over the 
shivering girl. 

“Jo,” she sobbed, “Jo — is there such a thing as a 
female cad?” 

“Why ? I don’t know what they call them. What 
do you mean ?” 

“Because / am a cad. I couldn’t — couldn’t stand it 
any longer. I shouldn’t have waked you up, but — 
but—” 

Jo was sitting up on her couch, her arm around the 
sobbing girl who knelt there. 

She said nothing. 

“Jo — ^Jo — I have come to ask your forgiveness. 
Not that I deserve it or should have it. But you’ve 
done for me to-day that which expresses something 
more than forgiveness — at least it is everything to a 
person as selfish as I am. Why, you actually saved 
my life, Jo — did that to me! — ^and I’ve been, a cad all 
through. I hated you so, I didn’t want you to do 
even that. I was so smart, I thought I could pull 
myself out of the hole. — And that second time I went 
in and was going down, down, I thought so many 
things — and I thought a lot of you, and what I had 
done to you, and how you had paid it back I” 

Jo was smoothing down the disheveled hair, for the 
face half smothered in the comfortable as she glimpsed 
it by moonlight was woe-begone and tear-stained. 


260 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“What you did just heaped coals of fire on my heart 
— literally — and they have been actually burning me 
ever since. I — I couldn’t rest to-night. I had to have 
it out. I — I suppose it’s my selfishness all over again. 
I should not have waked you up.” 

Jo laughed. “Don’t worry about that,” she said. 
“It’s more than good to have it out at last, even in the 
wee hours.” 

“Well — well — Fm such a coward, I can’t even have 
it out,” Spice broke off into a sob. “Well, you know 
what I’ve done, and what I thought, and how abomi- 
nably I acted. Say to me what you like — if only you 
will forgive me!” 

“I do forgive you, child. And that is why I shall 
say nothing.” Her own head was whirling. “Spice, 
dear, you almost broke my heart — literally you walked 
over it with spiked shoes — till if I hadn’t nerved my- 
self and shut off all feeling I would have gone mad. — 
But there, I am talking and I said I wouldn’t. But 
you know how badly I felt though I tried not to show 
it, and after that you can really believe I forgive you 
when I say I do.” 

Spice caught the hands that were running through 
her hair. 

“The others all think an awful lot of you, Jo,” she 
said. “And I see why — now. But could you care- 
may I — some day — ^have your friendship, too?” 

“Didn’t I say I’d forgiven you?” She pulled the 
girl up on the couch beside her. 

“But could you — could you stand me?” said Spice 
fearfully, as she ventured to put her arms around the 


THE BREAK IN THE ICE 


261 


frail Sophomore. “Goodness, you must be cold your- 
self, the way I have been keeping you up.” 

And Jo allowed herself to be enveloped in the ca- 
pacious arms of the large Freshman, who, the last 
obstacle having been removed, was now at peace. Jo 
herself was happy. For she realized that the con- 
stant embarrassment under which she had found her- 
self would now be over ; misunderstandings were at an 
end; she could now feel free to become friends with 
the girls as her heart dictated. 

“But you see I am still selfish, Jo,” said Spice, 
throwing off the borrowed bathrobe. “For I am keep- 
ing you awake. I must go now. Imagine if Miss 
Cooke found her invalid here !” And with a laughing 
good-night she stole an embarrassed kiss and ran 
toward the door. 

“Bless your heart,” murmured Jo after her. 


CHAPTER XXVI 

“hail our captain, hail our team!” 

Winter at last was over. King Cold was gone and 
bleak March began sweeping out his house with her 
winds, scrubbing and mopping up the litter he had left. 
By almost imperceptible degrees the ice and snow on 
the fields and roads disappeared, and one morning, 
from the top-most branches of a bare tree in Main 
Street, came the song of a robin. 

And then April. 

The girls had all been looking forward to the Spring, 
in so many ways the most wonderful season of the 
year at College, and at last it was upon them. There 
were walks beyond, in the country toward the moun- 
tains, where brooks wound in and out and sang as 
they went, where violets grew in rich clusters and frail 
anemones nodded at every breeze. Shocks of apple 
blossoms flooded the countryside and song-birds buried 
themselves among the blossoms. 

But it was not altogether the glory of the country 
that made Spring mean much to the girls. For the 
hockey games were coming. And these were one of 
the Spring’s big happenings. 

Up to the Easter holidays, whenever the day was 
dry and the ground hard, the class hockey teams were 
out practicing, playing with their own “subs” or with 
opponent classes in trial matches. Pegs and Julia were 
262 


“HAIL OUR CAPTAIN” 


263 


out all the time, and Mary, on the insistence of Pegs, 
played on the substitute team. The doctor had pre- 
scribed plenty of exercise and out-door air and Mary 
was fast being cured of her nervous wandering. 

The Freshman class having carried its point and 
having had the interclass hockey games postponed until 
Spring when they, too, would be in condition to com- 
pete, were hard put to it to make good. With the 
girls’ return from Easter vacation the one topic of 
conversation was the hockey championship. 

But alas and alack for the high hopes of the Fresh- 
men ! The first two games they played with the Seniors 
and Juniors they were sacrificed on the altar, and 
their defeat was expeditious and unhandsome. Pegs, 
who, as Captain of the Freshman team, had tried to 
coach them to success, wept bitter tears and held stormy 
conferences. Why? why? WHY? 

She had four of the team up in her room one after- 
noon, three days before the final big game — that with 
the Sophomores. 

“And I suppose we’ll lose that, too,” remarked Jen- 
nie Crowell who was sprawling on Pegs’ couch in 
her gym suit. “We’ve got the habit.” 

“That’s just the trouble with us!” Pegs flung out 
at her. “I once overheard a man in a car saying that 
a prize fighter that’s afraid of being beaten is already 
beaten! He hasn’t a chance!” 

“But, Pegs, this is our first year. Think of all the 
training the others have had.” 

“That’s exactly the reason we had the season for the 
games changed, so that we could have a chance to 
practice. Now what have we done with it?” 


264 ) 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


There was silence. Frances Sherwood was swing- 
ing her feet thoughtfully back and forth. 

“We lack class spirit, that’s what we lack,” was 
Pegs’ scathing verdict. “We’re scared — scared of our 
own shadows. We’ve no backbone in our make-up.’’ 

Suddenly the noise of ascending feet was heard on 
the stairs and the door was flung wide to admit Julia 
and Thara, singing and skipping to the music as they 
came: 

“Hail the Bridegroom, hail the Bride; 

Let the nuptial knot be tied I 

Sing their praises, hymn their praises, 

Hail the Bridegroom, hail the Bride 1” 

They ended in a nerve-racking discord. 

“That’s the thing ! You’ve got it! Let’s have some 
good songs! Then we’ll have a chance of winning! 
Julia and Thara acquired that gem during their Easter 
vacation in New York. At ‘Ruddigore.’ They went 
to see the Gilbert and Sullivan opera ‘Ruddigore’ and 
since they’ve come back we’ve heard nothing but the 
Bridegroom and the Bride.’’ 

“Hail the—” 

“Cut it out! Please! — But look here, Thara, serve 
your fellow man. That makes a ripping hockey song. 
Take pencil and paper and stick in a comer until you 
have a parody on it. It will put their nerves on edge, 
believe me.’’ 

“Pegs, don’t be so slangy,’’ put in Jennie. 

“It needs slang or something. Thank your stars that 
I content myself with slang, But you’re right! I 
ought to cut it out.’’ 

“ ‘Cut it out !’ There you go again,’’ said Thara. 


“HAIL OUR CAPTAIN” 


265 


“Never you mind Pegs, Thara,” suggested one of 
the others. “Just sit down and write us a bunch of 
new songs, and we’ll let the class practice them to- 
night. There’s a Freshman sing in Assembly Hall, 
and so far they haven’t had a song worth a second 
breath.” 

“You hear, Thara,” commanded Pegs. “Get busy.” 

“Yeth— m.” 

The great day dawned. It was a clear and cold and 
sunny day of early May, with the chill of winter yet 
lingering in the air. But, oh, how overcast were the 
Freshmen’s skies. In spite of all. Pegs had not been 
able to effectually lift their gloom. 

To the contrary with the Sophomores. They had 
beaten both Seniors and Juniors, and their crack team 
was now ready to take the championship over the 
bodies of the fallen Freshmen. They were confident 
of winning; their players were skilled and famed, and 
their Captain was Betty Jones, the fastest forward 
the College ever had. No wonder they had a plume in 
their caps, and that plume waved most audaciously ! 

It was a Saturday afternoon, the final game of 
the series. The Campus was gay with color — ^blue for 
the Freshmen, red for the Sophomores — and their 
sister classes — ^Juniors and Seniors — wore the colors, 
too. Excitement was at fever heat. 

The game was called for three o’clock, but by two 
the oval in front of the Gymnasium was crowded with 
spectators. To the right of the oval were gathered the 
Freshmen and Juniors, to the left. Sophomores and 
Seniors. Standards, thrust in the ground here and 


266 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


there, bore the banners and mottoes of the rival classes, 
while, in between the standards, were massed the spec- 
tators, who wore the favorite color or carried pennants 
of red or blue that bobbed up and down. The crowds 
pulsated with excitement and suspense. 

For on them, the spectators believed, rested the bur- 
den of making sure the victory. Their loyalty and 
spirit would play a big part in the game. Scarcely had 
a hundred or so gathered on a side when little song 
papers began to rustle. Cheer leaders on each side, 
batons upraised, made ready to take precedence in 
starting off. The Reds were the wee bit quicker. 
With a vim characteristic of them they rolled out the 
tune of “The Wild Man of Borneo,” to reecho among 
the surrounding halls: 

“We — are, we — are, we — are, we — are 
The Class of '22, 

We — are, we — are, we — are, we — are 
The Class of '22. 

What in the world do we care ! 

What in the world do we care ! 

We — are, we — are, we — are, we — ^are 
The Class of '22! 

“For 

“They — are, they — are, they— -are, they — are 
The Class of '23, 

They — are, they — are, they — are, they — ^are 
The Class of '23. 

What in the world do we care ! 

What in the world do we care 1 

They — are, they — are, they — are, they — are 
The Class of '23. 

And again in quick repetition. 

Scarcely had the song begun when recruits began to 


«HAIL OUR CAPTAIN’^ 


267 


pour in from all sides to swell the ranks of the two 
groups of spectators. So that it was with greater vol- 
ume, and tremendous enthusiasm, that the Freshmen 
responded, their cheer accompanied by the beat of a 
drum. 

(Tune: ‘'Over There*') 

"Sophomores swagger roun*, swagger roun*, swagger roun', 
Think they own the town, own the town, own the town, 

Think they own the slickest hockey team. 

It's a bird and it's a dream! 

Think the victory sure, victory sure, victory sure, 

But — it won't endure, won't endure, won't endure! 

Oh, they'll quake with mortal fear, 

When they get that rousing Freshman cheer! 

Chorus 

"Over there, over there, send the word, send the word over there I 
The Freshmen are coming, the Freshmen are coming! 

They're going to get them unaware ! 

So beware, have a care! Send the word, send the word over 
there ! 

We'll be over, we're coming over, with the crack, crack, crackest 
Freshman team!" 

But the Sophomores were not to be outdone, not 
taken in with vaunting and self-praise, for in a deep 
husky monotone, without music, they hurled back their 
defiance : 


"Good — ness ! Gra — cious I 
How audacious I 

For the Freshmen thus to face US I 
Will they lick us? 

Can they beat us? 

No-o— oh !” 

Competition was growing keen. New songs were 
sung by each side, and it was now a song contest as 
well as a hockey match. 


268 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


Suddenly down the walk by the side of Potter Hall 
appeared a little group in navy blue sweaters with 
large white numerals on the blue ground. It was part 
of the Freshman team coming from Journey’s End 
where they had been in conference with Pegs Whiting. 
No sooner had they been sighted than the cheer lead- 
ers on the Blue side began to run from group to group. 
The Freshmen burst out with a greeting to the tune of 
the “Ruddigore” ditty that had become so familiar 
at Journey’s End. 

“Hail our Captain, hail our Team, 

On the hockey field supreme I 
Sing their praises, hymn their praises, 

Hail our Captain, hail our Tee — ee — earn !'* 

The rising inflection and the discord at the end 
brought a laugh and a cheer from the other side. 

“Second verse !’’ cried the cheer leaders. 

“Hail our Captain, hail our Team, 

On the hockey field supreme 1 — “ 

The Captain and Team whose praises were being 
sung waved to them from the green on the north side 
of the Gymnasium where they had taken up their 
quarters. 

“Third verse!” 

“Hail our Captain, hail our Team — ” 

The Sophomore side began to groan and made or- 
ganized protest in a tremendous monotone : 

“Give — us — — chance !” 

“Hail our—’’ 

But something was happening at the Freshman 


“HAIL OUR CAPTAIN” 


269 


quarters, Jennie Crowell, who had come from Sarah 
Newton Hall, was seen to draw aside Captain Pegs 
and to say something to her that had made her stand 
open-mouthed. This is the “close-up” of the conver- 
sation that caused such consternation: 

“Frances Sherwood has twisted her ankle!” 

“What — do — ^you — mean ?” 

“She’s twisted, wrenched, her ankle,” repeated the 
other. 

No wonder Pegs was aghast. Frances Sherwood 
was her chief forward on whose support she had 
mainly counted. 

“How did it happen ?” queried Pegs when her Cap- 
tain’s responsibilities had given place to human con- 
cern. 

“Slipped coming down the stairs half an hour ago. 
She insisted she wouldn’t see the doctor, but they called 
one any way. She’s absolutely forbidden to try to 
play. Frances has done nothing but weep ever since.” 

“Is it so painful?” 

“It’s not the pain. She’s miserable because she had 
to go and do it just when we all needed her for the 
game.” 

Pegs put her hand to her forehead and groaned. 

“Hail our Captain” was starting up again. 

“Well,” she said, “I suppose we have to go through 
with it just the same. It’s on team work I was count- 
ing, and now the chain is broken.” 

“Cheer up,” said Jen, throwing her arm around the 
disconsolate Captain. “I’ll support you on the right 
and we’ll try to keep the team work up just the same.” 

Pegs aroused herself. 


270 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Who’ll take her place?” asked Jen, watching Pegs’ 
revival with deepest concern. “Couldn’t you move 
Julia Talbot there?” 

“No — we need her as half-back. She must guard 
the Sophomore goal. It must be the one who played 
against Frances on the sub-team. — Mary Hubbard! 
Ugh!” 

The rest of the team who had been hovering around 
the pair anxiously, reechoed the exclamation. 

“The other team,” said Pegs, “is not so wonderful. 
Mary Hubbard can play in spots. She got two goals 
from Frances once. How did she do it?” 

They sent for Mary Hubbard who was squatting 
on the grass, Turk fashion, on the Freshman side of 
the oval. She was dragged into the Gymnasium amid 
protests of “I never can do it I” to reappear five minutes 
later in Frances Sherwood’s suit and blue sweater. 

“I — I look like the real thing now,” she said, coming 
out to join the Freshman group. She looked down 
blushingly at the numerals she had never hoped to 
wear. 

“Well, live up to it,” said Pegs. “Follow me up 
wherever I go and watch the puck. When I say ‘Mary’ 
get ready to receive it and carry it on — And, Jen, you 
watch on the other side. We’ve got to win, just to 
show them we’re no mollycoddles.” 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE VICTORY 

“There comes the Sophomore team out of the 
Gymnasium,” cried the Freshmen. “My, but they’re 
proud! Look at Betty Jones.” 

‘We — are, we — are, we — are, we — are 
The Class of ’22, 

We — are, we — are, we — are, we — are 
The Class of ’22. 

What in the world do we care I 

What in the world do we care ! 

We — are, we — are, we — are, we — are 
The Class of ’22!” 

The Sophomore team spread themselves over the 
oval and commenced to practice with the puck. On 
the north of the Gymnasium the Freshman team were 
choosing their hockey sticks. The Freshman onlook- 
ers saw Pegs take Mary Hubbard aside and coach 
her assiduously. They had heard what had happened. 
A pall of gloom enveloped them. 

“Now,” called the chief leader with a blue- wound 
baton, striving to lighten the heavy atmosphere, “let’s 
sing for Beautiful Pegsy!” And the Blues burst out 
more or less melodiously : 

“P-P-P-Pegsy ! Beautiful Pegsy I ' 

You’re the only g-g-g-girl that we adore! 

See the punt roll toward the Blue Goal ! 

You’re the girl that’s going to score the Sophomore 1” 

271 


272 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


The Freshman team began to saunter toward the 
field, sticks on their shoulders, trying to put on a bold 
front. Only one hung her head timidly and looked 
self-conscious. This was Mary Hubbard, and she 
would have stayed behind had not Pegs locked her arm 
in hers and pulled her laggingly toward the oval. 

The Freshman rooters saw this and started: 

“M-M-M-Mary ! Beautiful Mary ! 

You’re the only s-s-s-sub that we adore 1 
See the punt roll toward the Blue Goal! 

You’re the girl that’s going to score the Sophomore 1” 

And then the Sophomores started in with one of 
their songs and the two became unrecognizably in- 
termingled. 

The Referee's whistle brought silence. It was three 
o’clock. 

The stillness was intense. A chill wind rustled 
through the newly leafed trees. The Referee’s voice 
alone was audible, giving instructions clearly and de- 
cisively. The Sophomores drew the better goal — ^to 
the north of the field. The Freshmen faced south. 

They lined up for the game. Facing Pegs in the 
center was the confident Sophomore Captain — Betty 
Jones — ^who smiled on Pegs as a spider might on a fly 
at the door of her parlor. Behind Pegs was Jennie 
Crowell; in front of her, where she could watch her 
every move, was Mary Hubbard, looking rather more 
like a limp rag than a support. 

The Referee again blew her whistle. Ground — click 
— ground — they’re off! 

Betty was a shade faster and, while Pegs was com- 



The Freshman team began to saunter toward the held, sticks on their shoulders, tryin 

to put on a bold front. 











THE VICTORY 


273 


ing down, gave the puck a quick whack. Through a 
gap in the Blues it went, and after it Betty — like a 
flash. But a Blue quarter-back got in front of the 
puck and stopped it. Crack! It shot back toward 
Jennie Crowell, who carried it with her down the field. 

Shouts and yells of applause came from the Fresh- 
man lines, but the triumph was short lived ; for before 
Jen could get within shooting distance of the Freshman 
goal, her stick was caught by a Red half-back. A short 
struggle — a twist — whack! The puck shot free from 
the entanglement of sticks and feet, and was pounced 
upon by a Red quarter-back, ready to receive it. 

There was a thrill on the Red side, but the play 
was so close that they hardly breathed. Toward a Red 
forward now, just as a Blue bore down upon her. 
But the Red dribbled the puck down the field, dodging 
an enemy quarter-back. Straight on she went without 
seeing the waiting Blue half-back, who had come in 
her path and stood poised in gleeful expectation. The 
Sophomore lines were yelling for her to look out for 
the Blue, but apparently “rattled,” on she went. Their 
attention fixed on the blundering forward, few noticed 
that Betty Jones was keeping up with her. Just as 
she was about to collide with the Blue half-back, she 
gave a quick twist and shot the puck at right angles 
across the field. It was stopped by Betty, who, be- 
fore the Blue guard could wake up to the new situa- 
tion, shot it through the Red goal post. 

The cheers that rose for Betty Jones were piercing, 
and her praises were sung in one big roundelay while 
the teams were taking their places again. Pegs’ heart 
was sinking, but what she said to her team as they went 


274 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


back was: "Tie that! We’ve got to put one through! 
Remember the plays we practiced !” 

The teams lined up. Again Betty Jones led off, but 
her shot forward was stopped quickly. For the Blues 
were gritting their teeth and were determined she 
should not put it through. Back and forth went the 
puck, amid the cracking of sticks. Finally Jen got it 
and carried it down the field. A Red quarter-back 
was coming toward her — was upon her — whack ! The 
puck was shot across to Pegs Whiting. Down the 
field continued Jennie. A quarter-back bore on Pegs. 
Whack ! With unerring aim the puck shot back again 
to Jennie. 

They were close to the goal ! The Reds concentrated 
their forces before these two, intent upon breaking the 
combination. Back came the puck to Pegs. She was 
hopelessly beset by the half-backs. She must do some- 
thing. She glanced in Mary Hubbard’s direction. 
Mary was not supporting her. She was miles away, 
dreaming, two feet from the Freshman goal where 
she confidently expected the puck to arrive at any 
moment, such faith did she have in Pegs ! Mary was 
left unguarded by the half-backs who had their hands 
full with Pegs and Jennie. A wild thought flashed 
through Pegs’ head. She saw a gap among the legs 
and sticks. She shot the puck through to Mary Hub- 
bard — and prayed! 

And Mary? She was astounded at the thing that 
came to her feet. She emitted an “Oh!” She raised 
her stick leisurely while the guard rushed furiously 
at her. Then, whack! The puck shot between the 
Freshman goal posts. , . 


THE VICTORY 


275 


Astonishment reigned and for a moment absolute 
silence. Nobody could realize what had happened, 
least of all Mary. She looked sheepishly at Pegs who 
ran toward her, expecting to be “called down” for not 
supporting her. Then, as Pegs hugged her “all over 
the field” the Freshman cheers rang out : 

“M-M-M-Maryl Beautiful Mary, 

You're the only g-g-g-girl that we adore I 
See the punt roll through the Blue Goal, 

You’re the girl who just scored the Sophomore 1” 

The Referee’s whistle blew. 

“What’s the matter?” The cheering abruptly 
stopped; the teams looked to each other for explana- 
tion. 

“The half is over,” explained the Referee, smiling. 

“Hooray ! We’ve tied them !” and Pegs almost car- 
ried Mary Hubbard off her feet. 

The goals stood one to one. 

The side lines were wild with excitement. Banners 
waved and song followed song in quick succession. 
The Sophomores were still confident of victory and 
tried to make it certain by their staunch encourage- 
ment. The Freshmen were not so down-hearted. 

Not they; they merrily started on an uninterrupted 
round of 

“Hail our Captain, hail our Teaml 
On the hockey field supreme ! 

Sing their praises, hymn their praises — 

Hail our Captain, hail our Tee — ee — eaml” 

And again. 

And again. 

Shades of Gilbert and Sullivan ! The Sophomores’ 


276 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


ears ached and their brains spun round like gyroscopes. 
But soon they sent over the demand : 

“Aw! HAVE — A — heart! Change — the — tune!” 

And the Freshmen subsided, but only because they 
were out of breath! 

The Freshman team sprawled on the green beside 
the Gymnasium, their coats thrown over them by 
solicitous worshippers, and rested, unmindful of the 
chilly ground, and breathed deep, and sucked oranges. 

“Pegs, dear! You’ve got to beat!” was the earnest 
plea of Thara, who gazed at her from the depths of 
two deep brown eyes.' 

“Of course we will!” exclaimed Pegs. “And what 
do you think of Mary’s performance ? Isn’t that child 
a peach?” And she shook that individual who sat 
there, absently looking at the Great Beyond between 
two wisps of hair that straggled over her face. And 
Mary came to and smiled. 

The Freshman rooters were beginning on “Hail 
our Captain” again. There had been one lucid inter- 
val when they had sung “The Freshmen are coming,” 
but now they had reverted to hailing their Captain. 
The Referee was looking at her watch. In four 
minutes the second half would begin. 

The Sophomore team issued forth from the Gym- 
nasium, but stuffed their fingers in their ears to keep 
out the monotonous repetition of “Hail our Captain” 
that flatted and sharped all over the oval. The Sopho- 
more rooters, seeing the Freshmen were not inclined 
to come to a pause, and chagrined to the utmost, tried 
to smother the “Captain” with a tremendous repetition 
of 


THE VICTORY 


277 


“Goodness 1 Gracious I 
How audacious 1” 

until the halls around echoed and reechoed like one 
great Bedlam which knew no end. 

The teams were facing each other again. At the 
Referee’s whistle the noise stopped. There was one 
last admonition from a little Freshman group to 
“BEAT IT, PEGS !” responded to by a groan on the 
other side and an exclamation, “HOW AUDA- 
CIOUS!” both of which the Referee squelched with a 
black look and upraised hand. 

Phee-ew! Again they were off. 

The playing now was closer, and the constant 
struggles and interlocking of sticks made the spectators 
hold their breath in suspense. The puck was often 
out of sight in the scrimmage. Finally it emerged at 
one side of the field, was caught by the swift forward 
who was Mary Hubbard’s opponent, and carried down 
the field toward the Red goal. She took advantage 
of the momentary non-interference and shot for a 
goal. But, ugh! The stick of Julia Talbot, the Blue 
half-back, blocked the puck and sent it back up the 
field where it was carried on by a Blue quarter-back. 

It was taken in the center by Pegs Whiting, but 
Betty Jones was there very much alive, and a hot con- 
test followed. It began to look as though neither side 
would get the advantage and the game would end in a 
tie when Jennie Crowell managed to get her stick in 
and shot the puck to one side. Pegs got it again and 
shot it down to Jennie who had advanced forward to 
receive it. By quick side passing between them, they 
carried it forward down the field. They got it within 


278 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


ten feet of the Freshman goal. Pegs made a short 
shot for goal. Ugh! A Red guard parried it just 
in time, to the great relief of the harassed Sopho- 
mores. 

As they struggled for possession of the puck, Pegs 
could see Mary dancing erratically from side to side, 
for all the world like a gnat on a puddle of water. 
Mary bothered her — if she would only stay still! She 
took another quick chance — hit the puck out toward 
Mary. Mary almost stepped on it, stumbled a bit, and 
all but lost it to her guard. But she woke up in time 
to give it a short awkward twist with her stick. 

It went just three feet toward the center, but Pegs 
was there, relieved of her guard, who had momentarily 
relaxed, surprised out of her vigilance by Mary's awk- 
wardness. The Sophomore recovered just a second too 
late. Pegs did not stop to aim or fuss. She raised 
her stick and shot — straight through the goal ! 

There was no mistaking the joy of the Freshman 
side when they burst out 

‘T'-P-P-Pegsy ! Beautiful Pegsy! 

You’re the only g-g-g-girl that we adore! 

See the punt roll through the Blue Goal, 

You’re the girl that just has scored the Sophomore!” 

The goals were two to one in favor of the Fresh- 
men. It seemed too good to be true. But their cele- 
bration was cut short by the Referee who was mind- 
ful of the passing of time and the hurrying of the 
Sophomore team to line up, to redeem themselves. 

The whistle blew and the game started again. The 
Sophomores, ‘who knew that little remained of the 


THE VICTORY 


279 


time for the second half, were straining every nerve 
to tie the Freshmen. Pegs and her supporters at first 
tried for another goal, but when they saw the deter- 
mination of the Red team they knew they could not 
get by, and so were satisfied to seek only to hold them, 
absolutely determined that the Sophomores should not 
pass. Every position was contested, every shot was 
blocked. There seemed too many sticks, too many 
feet in the way. Everything was difficult, every- 
where were obstacles. 

The side-lines held their breath in dead silence, ex- 
cept for occasional gasped “Oh’s” and “Ah’s.” They 
cast nervous glances at their watches. The Referee 
seemed to keep one eye on the official watch on her 
wrist. The strain was tremendous, the tension at 
breaking point. 

But as the minutes went by, a smile of relief was 
dawning on the Freshman countenance. The puck was 
blocked half way between the center and their goal. 

“Phee-ew !” 

The Referee’s whistle blew. The second half was 
over. The game was at an end. 

For a second the teams stood dazed, breathing hard. 
Then the Freshman team forsook their opponents and 
began to do a war dance. They had beaten the Sopho- 
mores ! 

On the Freshman side pandemonium reigned. Every 
conceivable kind of screech was indulged in, and with 
one accord they rushed on the field and encircled their 
beloved team. They lifted Pegs and Mary to their 
shoulders and commenced singing with more discord 
and less tune than before : 


280 


PEGS— FRESHMAN 


“Hail our Captain, hail our Team! 

On the hockey field supreme I 

Sing their praises, hymn their praises, 

Hail our Captain, hail our Tee — ee — earn I” 

The Sophomore lines at first were silent, stunned 
by the blow. The Red team, too, was silent, almost 
unbelieving. But when the realization came to them 
that with spunk, energy, good playing, and a bit of 
luck, the Blues had beaten them, they turned with one 
accord upon the Freshman players who were being 
borne down upon them. Hands extended ? 

No, not at all. 

The Sophomore team, following the leadership of 
the redoubtable Betty Jones, went forward with both 
hands raised in the air, crying: 

“Kamerad ! Kamerad !” 


CONCLUSION 


They feasted and celebrated — surprised, delighted 
Freshmen. All over the Campus the Freshman team 
were much in demand at banquets, spreads and gen- 
eral festivities. Miss Cooke insisted on having the 
entire team at a sumptuous dinner, at which roasted 
Class C’s were the predominating feature and post- 
prandial exercises included a multifold repetition of 
“Hail our Captain, hail our Team.” 

And so the Spring ran away as propitiously as it 
had begun. The days slipped by as they always do 
when they are happy days. May skipped into June 
in the midst of clear skies, the songs of birds and 
forget-me-nots. June had hardly arrived when Com- 
mencement and the summer vacation were at hand. 

The twenty disbanded — left their loved house- 
mother and Effie to pass a quiet summer after their 
strenuous year. The girls themselves went home to 
various activities and circles. But our little group 
was destined to adventures as strenuous as they had 
already been through. Pegs and Thara and the hand- 
some Ruth Hammond went to pass the summer on Jo 
Guilford’s farm at Galesport, Maine. What happened 
there, what problems sought their ingenuity, what 
events their resourcefulness, will be told in the next 
book of the series, “Pegs Down East.” 


281 























